Streetwalker
by Artemis Day
Summary: It's nothing Jane will be proud of the next morning, just a tiny lapse in good judgement, but the streetwalker is in her life now, and for better or worse, he's here to stay. Lokane.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this was originally part of my drabble collection, The Science of Lies, but you guys wanted to see more of Loki the prostitute... oh wait, I'm sorry, Loki the male escort, so here you go. **

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><p>Jane Foster was not a desperate woman. She wasn't even a lonely one (okay, maybe a little bit<em> sometimes<em>). What she was was a single, working woman moving up the corporate ladder, reading scientific texts on the side and saving up for her annual week in the summer to Norway with her godfather. He'd been doing very well since retiring to the mountains, and Jane was eager to see him again.

She had a small pool of friends, if not very close ones. Most were left over from her high school days. At least one was a former intern she had never lost touch with. All of them had gone on to their own lives, with careers and families and all that jazz. Darcy had been the last of them, marrying the sweet and somewhat dorky Ian just three months ago. Already, they were expecting their first child from a rather wild honeymoon, as Darcy described it.

Jane was happy for her, she really was. She was happy for all her friends, but maybe there were times, when she had a slow day at work and nothing good was on TV, when thoughts of what it would be like to have a significant other again came to mind. So what if her first (and so far last) big attempt hadn't worked out? It wasn't her fault she and Don had grown apart. These things just happened sometimes. Fairy tales were for storybooks and real life did not come with happy endings. Not completely happy anyway.

But none of that was the reason she had found herself in this 'bad' part of town, driving along an empty road amid neon street signs and scantily clad woman in gaudy make-up, walking up and down the street turning tricks. It had absolutely nothing to do with the wedding announcement for Donald Blake and his beautiful fiancee, whatsherface (Jane had forgotten), complete with sickeningly sweet photograph of them hugging, with Don kissing the woman's cheek as she beamed. It was definitely not because of the necklace the woman wore, which looked rather suspiciously like the one Don was going to give Jane for Christmas before they broke up.

Jane would never admit to anything.

If anyone asked, she was just another lonely, pathetic old maid to be looking for a night of excitement. Nothing more, nothing less.

A few of the many female prostitutes eyed her car as she drove by, only to lose interest once they saw it was a woman behind the wheel. One of them kept watching, but now it was Jane who was uninterested in her. She kept driving.

On the curb near the end of the street, she considered turning back and trying again. Finding a male escort was proving harder than she thought. The only ones she'd seen so far were either taken, smelled like sweat, or were looking to be picked up by men only. It was a real shame that this wasn't working out for her. Her favorite old vibrator back home would just have to do…

"Pardon me, but are you lost?"

Jane had stopped the car for just a minute to check her GPS. The voice came from the street corner, where the man with a newspaper that covered his face folded it neatly under his arm, revealing himself to Jane. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. She hoped she didn't look as stupid as she felt, gaping like a fish in the face of the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen in her life. She used to think Don would always hold that title. Boy, had she not seen anything yet.

The man was tall and thin with angular features, and he wore a black suit and tie that was way too fancy to have been a prostitute's get-up. Most likely, he was another one looking for some action tonight. Too bad. Maybe he could at least point her in the right direction.

"I'm not lost," she said, steeling herself not to say anything too humiliating next. "I'm looking for someone to… you know, _take home_ for the night. And I'm having some trouble finding what I'm looking for.

The man appeared thoughtful.

"I see. And what kind of woman are you interested in?"

Jane flushed red.

"I'm looking for a man actually." This was harder than she'd thought it would be. "Do you know where I can find one?"

"That depends," he said. "What is your main criteria?"

"My main… I don't know, I want him to smell good, I guess."

It was half a joke, but the man grinned and stepped a little closer to her car. Though he had yet to give Jane a dangerous vibe, she glanced at the open glove compartment anyway, making sure her trusty mace and the Taser she borrowed from Darcy were within reach.

"Tell me," the man said. "What do you smell?"

Despite the oddness of the question, there was a very noticeable scent in the air of cologne. It was hard to place, but not altogether unpleasant. She said as much, and the man nodded.

"Excellent. I charge a rate of 350 dollars per hour for the first five hours. Afterwards, it is 75 dollars for each additional hour. If you would like me for the entire night, the price would be-"

"Woah, woah, woah, hang on," Jane all but wrapped her hands around the man's neck to make him stop talking. "Are you telling me that_ you_ are a prostitute?"

"I prefer the term, 'escort', but yes, I am. Why, what did you think I was?"

_'The rich son of a corporate bigwig?'_ Jane thought. She had little to actually say, except that if she'd known the only decent pros- _escort_ around would charge so much, she would've just invested in an HBO subscription.

"I only charge so much because I always make sure that my clients get their money's worth." He stepped off the curb and got into the car in the passenger seat, not bothering to ask permission first. "You will see for yourself soon enough."

Jane could not recall for the life of her where in the conversation she had agreed to hiring him for the night or even alluded to wanting to. Either this guy was the pushiest escort on the face of the earth or he was just that sure of himself and his bedroom prowess. That alone made her willing to take him on. Jane Foster was not a desperate woman, but she was one who loved a challenge.

"What if I'm into kinky stuff?" she asked him. She really wasn't, but he could find that out later. Maybe.

"That would depend one how you define 'kinky," he answered, very much like someone on a job interview. "It's different for everyone, you see."

"What if I wanted you to tie me up and spank me?" There was about a negative twenty million percent chance of that ever happening, possibly more when he started to smile like that.

"I do have experience with that kind of play, yes."

Jane swallowed.

"Okay… what if I wanted to tie _you_ up?"

"So long as you pay me and promise not to make any attempts on my life, my body is yours to do with as you please."

Something about how he said that went straight to Jane's stomach and crept lower.

"Uh huh… what if I wanted to use whips and chains?"

"Once again, it is your money and your choice. I have very little by way of limitations in the bedroom."

_'How can he be so freaking calm about this?'_

"Okay, well what if… what if I don't want sex at all? What if all I want you to do is sit there and listen to me talk about my problems all night?"

He laughed, and not in a snide or a rude manner, but very much like he found her and everything she was saying truly adorable. That would be even worse as far as Jane was concerned. Nothing infuriated her more than being looked down on.

"My dear, if you think you would be the first person who needed a shoulder to cry on during the hardest of times, you would be sorely mistaken. Almost half of my workload is that alone."

"You're telling me you'll charge women hundreds of dollars just to sit and talk to you?"

"They're not all women, and I do give discounts."

Somewhere in the interim of their discussion, Jane had started the car again. They had driven out of the red light district back into respectable society, where someone in a Toyota just about crashed into Jane's car after running a red light.

"What if I changed my mind? I don't think I want to pay all that just to talk."

"Then we should do more than talk." He wore a lecherous grin that Jane shot down with a glare.

"I could stop at any time and kick you out of this car."

"No doubt, but you should know, I charge an entry fee of fifty dollars."

Jane stared at him. "An _entry_ fee?"

"What I mean is that as soon as I get in your car, you owe me fifty dollars."

Jane's car came close to slamming into a tow truck, but she hit the brakes in time and tried to shut out his uncaring chuckle at her slip-up, as if it had just been her life in danger and not his as well. Never before had Jane met a more difficult man. Was this how all male prostitutes acted?

"I'll tell you what," the man said (Jane realized that she forgot to get his name). "Since you're a first time customer and clearly in a fragile state of being, I'll give you a fifty percent discount. Two hundred and fifty dollars, and you have me for the entire night, and I'll even throw in the morning after for nothing, should you like a quick early morning romp."

Jane refused to delegate that with a response. She'd just be feeding his ego.

"There are those who would pay out their ears for just an hour with me. You should consider yourself lucky I'm feeling generous tonight."

There was a police station up ahead. Maybe she could pretend to be an undercover cop engaging in entrapment to pick up street walkers.

"You won't get anywhere ignoring me."

"I'm just trying to figure out what divine entity up there hates me so much."

"I would think none since it's me you picked up instead of one of my co-workers."

Jane growled, and came very close to ripping the steering wheel out and beating him with it until he got the hell out of her car. She seemed to have reached some kind of breaking point. The combination of Don getting married and trying to find a cheap, angry lay and picking up the world's most pretentious manwhore had finally gotten to her. She laughed like a madwoman.

"Okay, you know what? Fine. I will take you up on your offer. I will pay you two hundred and fifty dollars out of my own pocket for the whole night. I will pay cash or write you a check or give you my blood or whatever you want."

"Cash is preferable."

"And let me tell you something, if this doesn't end up being the best night of my life, I'm not paying you a dime, and you can just go back to the mud hole from whence you came, get it? This had better be worth it!"

It was.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Part two!**

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><p>It was a week and three days before Jane stopped dreaming of him.<p>

The first night she woke up at seven to the sound of her alarm, and _not_ at three or four in the morning, in a puddle of sweat with images of his dexterous fingers between her legs and his lips pressed to her throat clouding her mind, she thought it was a sign that she was finally moving past it. She could get on with her life and get cracking on that spinsterhood.

Oh, if only it were so.

The day provided all new distractions and woes. She could be anywhere- at work, out for a coffee run, reading at home, taking a shower- and right out of nowhere, she would conjure him up. He'd be in that three piece suit of his, or he'd be naked from the waist up, or he'd just be plain naked. No matter what, he would be smiling, or smirking, or grinning, ready to tear her apart from the inside out. She'd feel the tingle of his mouth on hers or the burning heat of his hands on her stomach, trailing downwards. She'd feel his kiss, his bite, his touch. She'd hear his voice in her ears.

_'That's going to cost extra.'_

He'd said that at least three times that night. What made it so sexy was beyond her.

The only solution was to take long breaks in the bathroom, and wash her hands raw when she was done. If only she could just wash off the shame.

A week and three days had come and gone. After all this time, she should have just forgotten about him. That nameless man who might as well have been a vivid fantasy she cooked up in a moment of loneliness. She thought she might have caught the tail end of that Fifty Shades of Grey trailer on TV the other night. Maybe it had burned into her subconscious and given her some kind of fever dream without the fever.

Of course, any time Jane tried to delude herself, she'd check her bank account and find it two hundred and fifty dollars lighter. She'd remember waking the morning after, the very real experience of him spooning her, his torso pressed into her back like a piece of warm metal. She'd remember disentangling herself from his grip in a haze, dressing fast, and leaving the apartment to get breakfast for three hours, praying he'd be gone before she got back.

He was.

She hadn't seen him since.

If luck was on her side, she'd never see him again.

She certainly wasn't going to look for him.

Libido be damned, she didn't need some crazy expensive, possibly sociopathic, prostitute hanging around no matter how good at his job he was.

There was no way in the world Jane was ever going back to that side of town again. In fact, first sign of a promotion in some other part of the country, she was taking it. No need to stay where she could get tempted.

To keep her mind busy and away from thoughts of carnal pleasure, Jane turned to her old standby: throwing herself into work. Being an office worker was perhaps the most mundane job in the universe. In a better world, Jane would be living on the road, traveling and stargazing in the desert somewhere, but if pushing pencils at Stark Industries was what paid the bills, she'd take what she could get.

She worked hard that day, filling her brain with words and numbers and account balances so that no room was left for her man of the night. She printed reports, sent and received memos, refilled her coffee four times, and tried her best to keep to her time table. At half past four, she went to her immediate superior's desk to leave him a letter she'd been tasked with typing up. It was a hair's breath from the time he needed it by, and that was one of the many reasons Jane thanked her lucky stars that her boss was such a sweetheart.

She knocked on the side of the open door.

"Got the letter, Mr. Odinson."

Thor Odinson, a tall, burly man with bright blue eyes and a friendly smile, beckoned her inside. He was just finishing a phone call when she arrived, and reset the phone on the receiver while Jane pulled up a chair.

"Jane, I've told you that you don't have to call me that anymore," Thor said. "We've worked together for three years now."

"Just going to take some getting used to calling you by your first name, sir."

She handed him the letter, which he barely inspected before leaving it on the pile to be mailed out. After all this time, he trusted her enough not to make embarrassing typos. It was a welcome change. The last boss Jane had used to literally hold every paper she gave him up to the light, searching for the slightest hint of white-out.

"Well, I know you're going to be a VP someday," Thor said, flashing his immaculate grin at her. "You're too good not to be. Then we'll be on equal ground and it will no longer matter."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Jane said, giggling and looking down to hide her blush.

Thor Odinson was, in fact, a very attractive man, and exactly Jane's usual type. When they first met, his pleasant disposition and casual way of making her feel welcome made her go weak at the knee and forget her name for a few seconds. Sometimes, Jane though there could have been something there, but after so many years and that one torpedoed relationship, that ship appeared to have sailed. Thor was happily engaged to someone else, not to mention a dead ringer for good ol' Don Blake. That alone was enough for Jane to let it go. It really wasn't Thor's fault, but these days, men who looked like Don made her chafe.

_'Tall, dark, and handsome is the thing for you,'_ said a nasty voice in her head. Jane stomped it out right away before it could bring up his face or do any other sort of damage.

To make up for it, Jane allowed Thor to engage her in talk of the next company picnic at the start of the new year. They talked about locations Thor had lined up, and Jane gave her opinions of them all. Once that was decided upon, Jane had to find another conversation starter before the awkward silence set in. Lucky for her, Thor had a busy workspace. There were knick-knacks and pictures galore. One showed him and a pretty dark haired woman she assumed to be the fiance, another had a smiling older couple, the male half missing his left eye for some reason. A picture at the far end depicted a little blonde boy in a fisherman's vest, holding a normal sized fish on a line in one hand, with the other thrown over the shoulder of a smaller, dark haired boy. Something about him in particular caught her eye.

"So who is this?" Jane picked up the picture frame without permission. "Your brothers?"

Thor chuckled. "Well, one of them is. The other is me. That's me and my younger brother, Loki. I was ten when this was taken. He was nine."

Jane handed him back the photo, which he looked at fondly, and a little sadly too.

"My father took us fishing out on the lake one summer. I wasn't very good at it. This was the only one I caught. You should have seen the beasts Loki reined in. I don't know how he did it so well. He would never tell me."

"Sounds like you guy had some sibling rivalry going on," Jane said.

"A little," Thor said, his tone indicating that he didn't want to get into it. That was fine, Jane wouldn't pry.

"So where is this brother of yours?" she asked instead. That seemed a safe enough topic. "Out running a fish market somewhere?"

The laugh that had been building died in her throat, the instant Thor's face fell and she thought she saw wetness behind his eyes. He was gripping the picture tightly, too tightly. He'd break it if he didn't let up.

"I'm sorry," Jane said quickly. "I didn't know this was a sensitive matter-"

"It's fine, Jane." Thor put down the frame, which miraculously hadn't been dented by those incredible bear hands of his. "I'm just… it's been some time since…" He closed his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. "Loki died four years ago. There was a fire at our old summer home and he was the only one inside. He had wanted some time alone because of… well, let's just say he was having some issues with our parents at the time.

Jane nodded. She hoped it came off more understanding and less 'go on, keep baring your soul to me.'

"The fire was so devastating that his body was unrecognizable. They couldn't even take DNA from it, but much as I would have liked to hope that meant it wasn't him, no one else could have been in the house at the time." A single tear found it's way down Thor's cheek. "It was almost his birthday when it happened. He was a brilliant man with such promise. To lose him in such a way, to know all that was lost… I sometimes think that's the worst of it."

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><p>The next day was Saturday. Jane never worked on Saturday.<p>

She would've thanked Thor for arranging her schedule to give her a day off once a week, but she rather felt like small talk was beyond them now that she'd driven the poor guy to tears.

She just_ had_ to ask about the fishing picture, hadn't she? She couldn't have said something about that little hammer figurine next to the computer or the wrestling team championship photo on the wall, or literally anything else.

Well, now she owed Thor the story of her parent's car accident, didn't she? He showed her his emotional trauma, now she'd have to show him hers. Wasn't that how it worked?

If anything good could have come from her faux pas, it was that she was back in the red light district looking for her mystery escort.

Oh yes, this was a good thing.

It was good because hearing Thor's story reminded her a lot of herself, and how little time she really had on this earth to live her life to the fullest. Cliche it may have been, one really only did live once, and maybe she shouldn't be resigning herself to being single forever just because the first and only guy she ever thought herself in love with hadn't loved her back. Maybe there really were other fish in the sea and all that jazz. Darcy had been telling her that enough ever since the break-up. How would she react when she found out that it took a male prostitute and her boss's dead brother to convince Jane that she was right?

Before Jane commenced with any soul-searching or getting back into the dating pool, she was going to have to find that guy again. Things had not ended well last time (_'There was nothing to end, you idiot. You _hired_ the guy!'_) and if she was going to get anywhere, she needed some closure. She needed to find him, apologize for walking out and not thanking him properly for his services, maybe even pay him for an hour to vent her frustrations. He didn't seem like the listening type- more like the 'kill you with sarcasm' type really- but she could use the release. The _emotional_ release that is.

She slowed in front of the corner by the lamp post, the one that glowed brighter than the others and flickered every couple of seconds. There had been a shadow on the wall that made her heart speed up, but coming closer, it was nothing but a tower of trash bags. The curb was otherwise deserted. A few women in gaudy makeup, crop tops, and fishnets were sitting on the steps of a dilapidated apartment building. The notion of driving up and asking if they'd seen a tall guy in a suit who oozed sex appeal and had hands like a god was thrown out faster than it came. On the list of bad ideas, engaging anyone other than him in conversation was pretty high up there.

In fact, the only bad idea worse than that one was engaging_him_ in conversation at all.

Why the hell was she out here again?

_'To tell him thanks for the amazing night. Here's fifty bucks. Have a nice day.'_

Jane stopped the car. She was in the middle of the street, but no one else was stupid enough to come down here, so what was she worried about?

She dropped her head onto the steering wheel and let out the biggest sigh of her life. This was by far the stupidest thing she had ever done. She would happily dare anyone who knew her well to think of one thing she had ever done that was worse than this.

"Well, you pulled your car over in the middle of the street where anyone could come careening around the corner and mow you down."

Jane hadn't known she was speaking out loud, anymore than she noticed the figure of a man leaning in through the passenger seat window, the one that had been jammed for months.

He was no different than he was a week and four days ago. His suit was newly cleaned and he was missing the green and gold scarf, but otherwise he was the very picture of refinement on a backdrop of urban decay that Jane remembered. And the way he smirked made her want to slap him and kiss him senseless in equal measure.

"I- I was looking for you." There were times when Jane had a rather unfortunate blabbermouth problem.

"I can tell," he answered.

Without missing a beat, he reached inside to unlock the passenger seat door and let himself into the car. Much as she saw that one coming, Jane didn't start the engine this time.

"That's another fifty bucks for you," she muttered.

"I'm thinking I might waive the entry fee since it's you."

"What makes me so special?"

"I like you."

Jane rolled her eyes. How very dark and mysterious of him.

Whether he was honest, at least now she had what she wanted.

"I was going to give you some money anyway," she said. "This time, I only want an hour, and I just want to talk."

He smiled at her, as if she'd just suggested something sinful and risque.

"And we're going to do it in public."

His smile widened.

"Stop looking at me like that. I really just want to talk."

"Return customers of mine rarely just want to talk."

"Well, I guess I'm different, aren't I?"

She drove down the street, picking up speed when they crossed the border between decay and normal society. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He was still smiling, goddamn him.

"Yes, you most certainly are."

She stopped at a red light, and used the opportunity to unleash that death glare that had been building inside of her forever. Boy had he had this one coming. He might as well burst into flames from the heat of her gaze.

Flames…

Jane blinked her eyes a few times. He turned his head slightly to the side, and from this angle there was something… new to his appearance. It was odd to say that he looked familiar, because she surely knew exactly who he was, minus a few key details.

"You've never told me your name, you know."

His smile faded. Finally. If she'd known that was all it took, she would've quizzed him on his personal information ages ago.

"My name…" he looked off into space , like he'd forgotten for a moment that he was not alone. "That is unimportant. I've used many in the past."

"So give me one of them," Jane said, exasperated. "Or I'll have to just give you one myself, and it won't be a good one. It'll be something boring like… I don't know, Tom."

"Luke, then," he said, swallowing something in the back of his throat. "You can call me Luke."

He gave her a meaningful look, the meaning to which she couldn't hope to decipher. She nodded her head and went back to the road. The light turned green several seconds ago, and the little old lady in the Pinto behind her was honking her horn.

"Well, Luke, it's nice to meet you," she said, holding out her free hand. "I'm Jane Foster."

He shook it one time and let go. For once, he seemed less eager to rip the clothes from her body and more to close himself into a box and never come out. What a strange man he was.

"It's one hundred and fifty an hour for idle conversation."

Yeah, should have seen that one coming.

"I don't get another discount?"

"That is a discount."

Should have seen that coming too.

"Okay, fine. There's a corner pub up here on fifth street that serves the best hot chocolate in the world," Jane made the appropriate turn so that the pub was just in sight. "I hope I'm not expected to pay for your drinks."

"Only if I'm expected to go home with you."

Jane snorted. "Well, that's one thing that's for sure not gonna happen."

It did.


	3. Chapter 3

Speed dating.

Jane Foster was about to go _speed dating_.

She was going to kill that girl in accounting who gave her the information and advised her to give it a try. First, Jane had to find out what her name was. She had been tall and plump with curly red hair and a lazy eye. Someone was bound to know her.

Not that Jane could place all the blame on her co-worker. It was still partly her fault that she was in this mess. For all of Jane's posturing and declarations of finding new romance, she didn't know jack shit about dating and she never had. She only met Donald because of a stupid twist of fate that not even a romantic comedy would use. She had missed the train to work one day, and then she tripped and fell on her way to the subway, only to be caught in the arms of a handsome man who also missed the train. They wound up stranded for two hours in the tunnel, talking science and medicine until the sun went down. By rom com logic, this should have meant they were soulmates. In reality, it meant that her and Don sucked at keeping time.

After that, taking advice from a complete stranger looked paltry, until she got to the restaurant and realized what the hell she was doing.

There wasn't anything objectively wrong with the men in attendance. There were ten in total, standing in a line at the opposite end of the bar. One of them was blowing his nose for about the fifth time and another wore what had to be the ugliest tie Jane had ever seen in her life, but they were otherwise decent to look upon. If Jane was being honest with herself (and of course she wasn't), she couldn't help comparing them to a standard most men dare not hope to reach.

That one on the far right wasn't tall enough.

The one next to him had dark hair that was too short.

The third guy could not make that suit work at all.

Whenever one of these meaningless flaws stuck out to Jane, she could've sworn she heard this deep, hissing laughter in her ears, and she regretted having come a little bit more.

All too soon, it was time to start. The woman running the show asked that the women choose a table, and the men would rotate between them. Jane took the one to the far left in the corner. It was tucked away from the rest, enough for her to hide and hopefully be forgotten in the shuffle.

Her wishful thinking was quick to shatter, as the host rang the bell and the first man came to sit down. It was that guy with the hideous tie.

"Hi there, I'm Frank," he said smiling. He had a pretty nice smile. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," said Jane. She introduced herself in turn and the next five of their seven minutes together was dedicated mostly to careers.

"I've been writing for the Post for about five years now," Frank said, "but I've always wanted to do freelance work so I can travel."

"Sounds like fun," Jane said. "I've always wanted to maybe go out west away from the city. Not like California or anything, but-"

The bell rang and it was time to move. Jane and Frank exchanged numbers as Frank stood to leave.

"By the way," he said before moving on, "thanks for not mentioning my tie."

Caught off guard, Jane was now very much staring at his tie, and by God, it was even uglier up close.

Sensing her confusion, Frank went on. "I'm only wearing this because a friend made a bet with me. I have to get three girls in a row to like me enough that they don't notice it."

"Oh, I see," Jane said with a nod, followed by a thumbs up. "Well, good luck to you."

Frank gave her a tiny salute and moved on to a voluptuous blonde in a cocktail dress. She took one look at him and fell out of her chair laughing. Looks like Frank wasn't going to win that bet.

The second guy was unmemorable, as was the third. The fifth was that 'not tall enough' guy, and he was actually really nice and funny. Neither of them felt a connection, though.

The guy after him was by far the most physically attractive. He was well-built and had a boyishly handsome face made better by some striking blue eyes that seemed to dance in the light. Best of all, he didn't look a thing like Don. Maybe Jane had just found the one.

"Hi, I'm Jane Foster," she said.

"I'm Leon," said the man. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

And Jane had to back up almost immediately to get away. She hid her retching behind a phony coughing fit. As that was only making Leon grow concerned and attempt to reach over and ask if she was okay, Jane had to stop. No way could she take another whiff of that noxious gas coming out of his mouth. Hadn't this guy ever heard of a breath mint?

"I'm fine, it's just allergies," she said, thinking fast. Alarms rang in her head as Leon opened his mouth. "But you know, funny story about my allergies, there was this time when I was seven and I was playing stick ball with the neighbor kids-"

Jane proceeded to tell the story of her allergy ridden cousin's first ever asthma attack in as much excruciating detail as she could, never stopping to let Leon get a word in. After being quite literally saved by the bell, Jane slumped over, ready to go back home and sleep forever and lamenting she still had at least four guys to go.

While the changeover took place, her eyes wandered to the foreground of the restaurant, a room packed with diners from all walks of life. There was a family of five enjoying chicken strips and pasta. A small girl stole a strip from her brother and got scolded by her father. Next to them was a pair of old ladies comparing wallet photos of their grandchildren, and next to them was a young, attractive couple caught in intimate conversation. No doubt it was going to lead to something a little more physical later in the night. Weren't they lucky?

At the center was a table that was bigger than the rest, though just two people occupied it. Just another way for rich people to flash their money around, of course. They didn't hold Jane's attention, until the curvy waitress with the large derriere moved to the side, and she caught a glimpse of the man sitting with the elderly gentleman and sharing a toast with him.

Somebody up there hated her. She didn't care what anyone said.

Luke had a new suit today, but it looked so much like the old one that Jane could only tell because he no longer had the scarf, just a plain black tie and a white shirt underneath. Knowing all too well what he looked like without his clothes, Jane thought it might be best for her to cut this whole thing short and go home. Claim she had a stomachache or something.

Her body was numb and even her mind was malfunctioning, giving her nothing helpful as Luke laughed at something his friend (his client?) had said and wore a little smirk that brought Jane back their first night together. To her foolish assertion that there was no way he could still have any stamina after two rounds. That smirk had been his response, and all Jane would get out of him before he got to work proving her wrong (and that he was most likely an alien of some kind).

Luke and the man talked for ages, and Jane was so absorbed that she didn't see the man who had come to her table until he leaned over and snapped his fingers in her face.

"Hey! Are you in there at all?"

Jane jumped and twisted herself around. The irate man before her appeared to be that guy who'd been blowing his nose. It was bright red and bulbous, a poor match for the rest of his face, which would have been pleasant were it not for that nose.

"Oh… I'm sorry," Jane said, resisting the urge to glance again at Luke's table. "I was just spacing out."

"What a shocker," the man muttered. Jane chose to ignore that.

"I'm Jane," she said, hand outstretched. He didn't take it.

"Nice to meet you, Jane."

The bell rang.

"And goodbye, Jane."

The man stood up, muttering 'weirdo' under his breath and leaving Jane to roll her shoulders and relieve the tension. She allowed herself one final look at Luke's table- the men were preparing to leave- and then dove into one more unmemorable chat with an unmemorable guy who seemed exactly as interested in her as she was in him. At least they were on the same page.

The second to last guy was the man with the too short hair. He sank into the chair, one arm dangling over the back, as he put on an easy smile and flipped non-existent hair out of his face.

"Hey, babe. Name's Hal. I've been waiting to get to you."

He was already so appealing.

"Nice to meet you," Jane said. She kept her hand firmly to her side this time. "My name is Jane."

"Nice name," he said like that was some great compliment she should be swooning over. "Suits the best looking girl in this whole place."

"Oh, you don't mean that." That busty blonde was in full view, sitting with that 'not tall enough' guy, who was stammering and sweating like a kid in Junior high.

"Course I do. The rest of these chicks are a dime a dozen. You're the only one who looks like she has any personality. So, how about your number?"

Somehow, Jane wasn't terribly flattered by his sweet talk, but then, she'd never cared for those who put one person down to make another look good.

"I actually don't have a working phone right now except my work line."

"So give me that," said Hal.

"I can't. It's against company regulation."

"I saw you give your number to some other guy."

Thankfully, the bell rang and saved Jane from having to answer that. She put on a smile and thanked Hal for his time ('So sorry we won't be seeing each other again'). He looked ready to protest, except the final guy in line was not very patient, and he all but shoved Hal out of the way so he could take his seat. From behind, he looked like that 'bad suit' guy. He was the last one, and so she braced herself for another seven wasted minutes with another guy she'd have nothing in common with.

Then he sat down.

"My, what an unsavory fellow. I don't think I could have stomached him for as long as you did. For that, Jane Foster, I commend you," and then he smirked. And Jane hated him so much.

_"What the hell are you doing here?"_

Jane looked around. If she signaled for help, maybe the hostess would come over to remove the intruder and find the real guy, but all she saw was said real guy leaving the restaurant in a hurry, shoving a thick, green wad into his pocket.

"I decided I wanted to try this speed-dating thing," said Luke. He looked far too relaxed for his own good and now that he was close enough, that shirt of his was one step away from translucent.

What the hell was he trying to prove?

That he was irresistible?

Jane was only here in the first place because she was trying to forget about that.

"I'm not reimbursing you," she said.

"I don't need it."

"I'm not paying you for anything either."

"You don't have to. This is my day off."

"Since when do escorts get days off?"

"They don't, unless they're me."

From there, Jane had no desire to engage him in further conversation, but she had one more question that, against her better judgement, she was dying to ask.

"If today is your day off, who was that man you were with?"

She was suddenly reminded of the time she asked for his name. His face fell into a blank stare and he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning away from her.

"That was… a business associate."

She raised an eyebrow.

"A business associate?"

"_Yes_," he said. "I do involve myself in other ventures besides selling myself on a dirty street corner."

"Oh yeah? Do tell."

He wouldn't. The bell rang once more and the hostess thanked everyone for coming. As everyone grabbed their coats and purses, Jane thought she saw the busty blonde and the not so tall guy leave hand in hand. If so, she wished them the very best.

Of course, Luke followed her out, claiming that his car was in the same direction. Jane doubted he even had a car, but her attention was diverted before she could say anything. That one guy, Hal, was talking to Frank, the man she'd given a number to, gesturing at the slip of paper in Frank's hand that looked very much like it came from Jane's notepad.

Luke tsked.

"Some people really can't take no for an answer." He shook his head. "Are you not bothered?"

"Don't worry about it," said Jane. "I was never going to see any of these guys again. This whole thing was just practice to see if I could get back into the dating game. That number is from my first ever cell phone from six years ago. It's been deactivated forever."

Luke grinned and took her hand, helping her down a high step.

"My clever girl," he said.

"I try," Jane said, distracted by her search for her beat up blue mazda, which had gotten lost in a sea of cars coated in darkness.

She was back at home (alone), making herself a late night snack and catching an action movie marathon, when it hit her that he had called her _his._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is the last of the pre-written chapters, so it might be a while before the next one comes out. Sorry about that. I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year and a bunch of other stuff, so you know how it goes.**

* * *

><p>It had to be the most cliche thing in the world to say that Thor's engagement party was like something out of a fairy tale, but as Jane walked through an archway weaved out of twigs and flowers, stepping on loose petals that cascaded down, it really was the only comparison she could make. Call her uncreative.<p>

It was harder to miss once Jane met the lucky bride to be. She wore muddy blue jeans and an oversized football jersey, and she dominated the field in a game of touch football. Jane knew she was Thor's fiance right away, not because she resembled her clean cut image in that picture on Thor's desk, but because the way Thor beamed whenever she made a touchdown or outran the rest was unmistakable.

Don used to look at her like that.

To avoid her mind delving into the point of no return, Jane listened in on the three middle aged woman at the table next to hers. They were watching the game, two of them with disapproving glares.

"I don't know why you condone this, Frigga," said the one on the left.

She was addressing the woman in the middle, the only one not to stick up her nose at the bride's dirty face and hands as she rolled through a puddle to catch a low pass.

"I agree," said the woman on the right, who had this upper class haughty noblewoman look that the others lacked. "If that were _my_ future daughter-in-law, I would never allow it."

"Then you've clearly never met a woman like Sif," said the one in the middle, and now that Jane knew this was probably Thor's mother, she could definitely see where his temperament from. "I have known her since she was a girl, and you could not find a better match for my son. Be assured of that, ladies."

Translation: lay off my family or this stirring spoon is going from my tea to your eye.

At least, that was how Jane chose to interpret the little smile Thor's mom wore that was anything but happy. She excused herself shortly thereafter to 'bring back more of those delicious scones from the refreshment table.' Twenty minutes later, she hadn't returned. Jane decided that she liked Thor's family. They didn't take any shit.

For the nex hour, she enjoyed hot hors d'oeuvres and sparkling champagne that a man in a pressed suit and tie brought to her on a tray. If this was how rich people lived- getting the biggest table at restaurants and having people serve you things on literal silver platters- Jane could get used to it.

The game of football came to an end, and the bride was escorted into the house to get cleaned up. In the interim, Jane learned from the idle gossip of the other guests that her name was Sif, that she and Thor had been childhood friends, and that she was an accomplished martial artist who routinely won competitions and could snap your neck with a flick of her wrist. Jane knew for a fact that Thor had been a wrestler in his college days (he could have gone to the Olympics if he wanted to) and having once caught him changing shirts in his office (purely by accident of course), Jane was pretty sure Thor could also snap a person's neck with ease. These two were meant to be.

Sif was back in time for dinner, sans the rough and tumble wild woman look. Now she was clean, coiffed, and a perfect fit for that fairy tale motif in her deep red gown and twice braided hair. She still fist bumped a handsome blond guy on her way to Thor's side.

"Everyone, thank you for coming tonight!" Thor said, projecting well over the general noise of conversation and clinking silverware. "My fiance and I are thrilled to have you. I hope you all enjoy your dinner-"

"We'd enjoy it more if you'd quiet down and let us eat!"

The speaker was a large and round red headed man Jane recalled having been part of the football game, teaming up with the blond guy against Sif and an Asian man. Instead of glaring at him or telling him to quiet down or any other negative reaction Jane might have expected, Thor laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder.

"Volstagg is correct!" he said. "I know none of you want to listen to me blather on when there is a meal to be had, so let's not waste time. Tuck in!"

Jane bit into her salad. No point in doing any different when everyone else was either cheering or stuffing their faces. The one called Volstagg- if Jane had heard correctly- had gotten really into a leg of lamb and seemed to have forgotten anything else existed. Jane was only into her salad, and she could not blame him in the slightest.

In fact, dinnertime ended much too soon for her liking, and mid meal drinks were served while the wait staff set up for dessert. After a dinner like that, anything less than a seven layer cake imported from some European country would fall below her expectations. This rich people stuff was a bad influence on her. She was never so high maintenance before.

She walked a few times around the party, drink in hand, stretching stiff legs that had been in one position for far too long (you'd think an office drone would be used to this). It was good to walk off a heavy meal and get a break from that husband and wife she'd had the 'pleasure' of sitting beside. Not that she was so jaded that the mere sight of a happy couple made her gag, but there was only so much feeding each other apple slices and 'lovey honeybuns' and 'babykins' that one person could take before they lost their lunch.

This was why she shouldn't have come alone.

Actually, she probably shouldn't have come at all. The only person in the world she could have thought to bring was an egomaniacal prostitute of all things. That was unacceptable for more than one reason. She had gone a full twenty six days without looking for him or seeing him anywhere at all since the speed dating thing. If she could make it a full thirty, maybe that would be enough to wean herself off of him, and if not, more drastic measures would have to be taken.

After their last encounter, she'd had four more dreams about him. The madness had to stop.

She paused in front of that flowery archway. Most of the loose petals had already fallen, but one would land in her hair or her empty tumbler every now and then. The scent was refreshing, if overwhelming.

"Jane!"

Thor and Sif were coming over. They were attached at the hip, Thor's arm around Sif's slim waist as hers crawled up his back, her fingers barely visible on the other side.

"Hey, Thor," Jane said. She nearly held out the hand her glass was clutched in, but at the last second caught herself. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Thank you for attending," said Thor, charming as ever. "I hope you've enjoyed yourself."

"Well, I can say that I've never had a halibut dinner that tasted so good," she said. _ 'Or a halibut dinner at all.'_

"If you think that's good, wait until you have a slice of our chef's red velvet cake." Instead of specifying just what was so good about the red velvet cake, Thor nodded to his fiancee. "Jane, I'd like you to meet Sif. Sif, this is my work associate, Jane Foster."

He removed his arm, not before giving her a quick squeeze and a smile. To this, Jane had to reiterate: they were perfect together. (Hopefully, they didn't feed each other anything in public.)

"It's nice to meet you," said Sif. She shook Jane's hand and put no more force into it than necessary. Nothing about her stance indicated caution, not that Jane ever thought she could compare to a woman like this. Even being a straight woman, she could admit that Sif was beautiful, covered in grime or otherwise. "Thor tells me you're going to be a VP someday."

Thor's grin did not change when Jane sent a withering look his way. If anything, it got wider.

"Well, I believe in you," he said, so very genuine in his encouragement that Jane could almost wish he _was_ single, and that the poison that was Donald Blake had never happened.

That other blonde man had gotten hold of the ball again. He ran by with it over his head, the man called Volstagg lumbering after him in hot pursuit (he was quite agile for being so big).

"Hey, enough talking over there, Odinson!" the blonde man shouted. "Let's play a round."

"We're having a conversation with someone!" Sif answered, rolling her eyes and muttering to herself about how rude some people could be. "Jane, I don't know if you've met Thor's best man yet?"

"No, I don't think so."

"You mustn't look down on Fandral, dearest," said Thor. "You know how excited he gets during times of celebration."

"I think it's from all the alcohol he drinks," said Sif.

Thor shook his head and pulled her into a one armed hug. She did not object.

"You know, Jane," he said. "Fandral is currently single, and I have it on good authority that he is a perfect gentlemen to his lady friends."

Just how many lady friends this Fandral had was not mentioned, but given the number of women eyeing him as he ran about in a fitted tuxedo shirt, and the way he eyed them right back, Jane would wager that there was something of a list.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Small talk turned to topics like work and Sif's new job as a martial arts instructor, but before they could go as low as the weather, Thor was called away by a member of the wait staff. He left Sif to finish telling Jane all about her new students, though that petered out once Sif finished the story about her favorite student's rising to the purple belt. Awkward silence reigned over them by the time Thor was out of sight.

"By the way, I'm really sorry about that," Sif said.

Jane furrowed her brow. "What?"

If her confusion reached Sif, the other woman made no show of it.

"Thor is a romantic at heart," Sif said. "He may not seem like it at first, but he is. He likes to see everyone as happy as we are. Personally, I don't think you and Fandral would be good match. No offense."

"None taken," Jane said. Out the corner of her eye, Fandral and one of his admirers had taken to making out against a tree, in the direct line of sight of all the party guests.

"It is a bit funny, though," Sif went on. "He mentioned you the other day. He thinks you would have been good for his brother."

Now there was something that piqued Jane's interest: that mysterious late brother of Thor's who had helped inspire her to get back in the game. Someday, she'd have to ask for a more recent picture of him than the one in Thor's office. Going off the one of his child self, he had probably grown up to be just as sweet and loveable as Thor was.

"You're talking about Loki, right?

Sif's eyes widened. "You know about him?"

"Thor told me," Jane said, though Sif's questioning gaze remained. "I saw a picture of him in Thor's office while I was delivering some papers, and we got to talking. He told be all about the fire too. I'm really sorry that you lost him like that."

"Don't be. I was never very close to Loki."

"Oh no?" Jane asked. "I thought you guys were all friends since childhood."

"With _Thor_, I was," Sif said. "Loki was very withdrawn as a child. I don't think there was anyone he was truly close to other than Thor and his mother."

"What about his father?"

Sif grimaced. "There were problems. I don't know what they were, but I think that at the end,Loki more or less hated his father. Probably why he chose Odin's favorite summer home to burn down instead of-"

"Wait, what was that?" Jane never liked interrupting people, but this one time, it seemed necessary. "You're saying the fire Thor's brother died in…_ he set it himself_?"

Jane could only imagine how she looked to Sif, all bug eyed and choked for words, but she couldn't possibly have held a candle to what was written all over Sif's face.

"Thor didn't tell you that part," Sif breathed, shaking her head. "Then I shouldn't say anymore. I'm so sorry. When you said he told you everything, I just assumed.."

A change came over Sif that was as sudden as it was extreme. Where she had been bashful just a moment ago, now she had darkened to a kind of steely rage that made Jane wonder if she'd done something wrong or offensive. The thought of angering someone who probably knew about thirty different ways to kill her had little time to set in before Sif stood up and looked ready to pounce on something or someone _behind_ Jane.

"What is it?"

Sif balled her fists, her face twisting into a animal-like snarl, and Jane got the sense that her new friend had shut out the world around her.

"What is he doing here?" she hissed.

Jane turned to look. At first, all she saw was that sickeningly sweet couple from before walking under the flower arch. They moved out of sight, and then Thor was there. With him was a man a head shorter, who none the less would've towered over Jane if he was as close to her as he was to Thor. His platinum blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a very punkish look that clashed badly with the age lines on his face. Though Jane could only see him from the side, she pegged him for no younger than fifty. He had bloodshot eyes, a large nose, and large ears that were pointed at the top. His grey suit was clean and well-tailored, yet it seemed to suit him ill. He smiled as he shook Thor's hand, and the phoniness of it was obvious even from so far away. Thor could certainly see it. As angry as Sif was to see this guy, whoever he was, Thor was one step away from wringing his neck.

"Who is that?" Jane asked, not so much speaking to Sif anymore as voicing a thought.

"His name is Malekith," said Sif. She took a step forward, ready at a moment's notice to jump into a battle with her fiance. "He was a business partner of Odin's before they had a falling out years ago. He's been coming around a lot in the last few years, always unannounced and unwelcome. The bastard even interrupted Loki's funeral."

Thor finished speaking with the man named Malekith. He did say goodbye, instead he turned on a heel and left him in the cold. Malektih didn't seem too bothered. At least not enough to leave a place where he was not wanted. He walked in Sif and Jane's direction, his gaze straight ahead and so piercing that he might as well have run Jane through with a sword. She had a feeling Sif would be doing that to him had she a weapon in hand.

"Mrs. Odinson to be," Malekith said, his clipped accent suggesting that English was neither his mother tongue nor a language he was particularly fluent in. "And Ms. Foster. What a pleasure to meet you."

Jane jumped, then glanced around stupidly to see if there was any other woman in the near vicinity who could, by sheer coincidence, bear her last name.

"Huh? Have we met?"

Sif hovered over her like some kind of guard dog. If Malekith made one wrong move, she would bite.

"We have not. I make a point of knowing all those who associate with the son of my former business partner," said Malekith. "And he happens to like you very much, my dear."

_'Thor likes me?'_ Jane was torn between contemplating the oddness of that statement and wondering if Malekith had a death wish to say something like that with Sif around.

It was likely not the latter, as Malekith bade them farewell and promised Sif that his wedding gift would arrive in just another month. Jane kept a hand on Sif as he approached a waiting limousine with a spring in his step, not that she'd ever be strong enough to restrain her.

A man in a footman's uniform awaited Malekith and opened the door for him. He was not the driver, as Jane expected. That man sat in the only untinted window and stared straight ahead with eyes covered by shades. His dark hair was tied back and his fingers dug into the steering wheel. For all that Malekith was eager to stay and crash the party, that driver looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, and the only reason Jane's eyes and thoughts lingered on him for so long, when he should logically be a mere footnote in the grand scheme of things, was that there was something so familiar about him that she couldn't place.


	5. Chapter 5

_'Well, that was a disaster and a half.'_

Jane could think of no better way to describe the last few hours as she walked the cold Manhattan streets against the setting sun. She passed cars honking their horns at the person in front of them and business people shouting into their blackberries, oblivious to the world around them. As such, Jane had to watch that nobody bumped into her in their haste, lest she get knocked into the gutter and have to go home cold, angry, and wet, instead of just cold and angry.

This was the last time she ever let one of her friends set her up on a date. Not that she blamed Betty Ross-Banner for how badly this night had turned out- she couldn't have known her colleague was a jerk to the waiter if he took two minutes too long to get his drink, and could only have a meaningful conversation about his many achievements in the field of genetics. She'd be checking those 'achievements' of his on Google the second she got home, because he had really been the one behind the cloning of Dolly the Sheep, shouldn't she have heard of him before?

First, she had to find her street.

Or any street at all that looked familiar.

That was the problem with letting your blind date pick the restaurant. If you had to, at any point at all, make up a story about your poor sick grandmother in that hospital up the road so that you could end the date early and not have to be in the car with him again- listening to him complain loudly about anyone driving less than thirty miles an hour- always make sure you are in a place familiar to you. One that is, at most, two blocks away from your apartment so you can walk home without problems.

Jane would have to keep that in mind for next time. Darcy was already talking about setting her up with the guy who worked at the Arby's on 9th Street. Apparently, he had a great ass. Jane couldn't wait.

She walked past a chic boutique manned by a pair of heavily made up women in stylish clothes, who looked out at her and anyone else walking by with haughty gazes. Jane would have paid them no mind, except she was pretty sure she'd passed them twice now. She checked her cell phone. She was in a good reception area, but her phone was on it's last breath. Always charge your phone before you leave the house was the second rule Jane was going to write in her comprehensive book of dating tips.

She walked all the way to the Cold Stone on the curb (at least that was something she hadn't seen before). She stood away from the crowd waiting to cross and dialed Darcy's number. The sign above her read 31st street. Darcy lived on 34th. Jane just hoped this was the right 31st and waited two rings for Darcy to answer.

"You've reached the Lewis-Boothby residence. This is Darcy speaking. How may I help you?"

"Darcy? It's me!" Jane shouted into the phone. She would have spoken softer, but with all the car horns and talking billboards in the background, she couldn't be sure Darcy would hear (this was one of those times Jane hated living in New York).

"Jane! Hey babe, how are you doing? Your date go well?"

Jane suppressed a shudder. She could still see the crumbs running down his face as he yelled at the waiter for bringing him a slightly undercooked steak.

"That's not important right now. Listen, I'm at the corner of 31st and Main in front of a Cold Stone, and it is _freezing_ out here. Do you think you could come and get me, or just give me directions to your place so I can walk it? Darcy? _Hello_?"

Jane pulled the phone from her ear, and the screen was dark. Dead.

"Dammit!"

Jane snapped the useless phone shut and stuffed it back into her pocket. She shoved her hands in after it, having zippered her winter coat up as far as it would go. She looked like a giant marshmallow person in a pair of light dress pants that she should've known better than to wear tonight. She charged across the street, looking for anything that struck her as familiar. She took a cab to work everyday, going five whole blocks between her building and Stark Industries' Manhattan branch. Surely she would cross into a street she knew if she just kept walking and stayed away from deserted places.

Minutes snailed by, at least in Jane's perception. Inside the Cold Stone she spotted a clock that read twenty after seven before she walked away from it. Three blocks and what felt like hours later, Jane came upon a bank with a clock reading seven forty five. Her fervor from twenty five minutes ago was dying away with the decreasing temperature. Even the apathetic New York population was leaving their personal bubbles to acknowledge the cold, drawing up coats and hailing cabs that would hopefully have a little heat to them. Jane would've done the same a long time ago, had she not stupidly left her wallet and all but five dollars cash back at her apartment while rushing to get ready.

Rule number three.

So here she was, braving the elements, probably getting further and further from her nice, warm, comfortable apartment, and one step away from becoming a Jane-sicle. There was a little homeless man asleep next to an adult bookstore whom she was convinced had frozen solid.

After another two blocks of walking, Jane looked around at her surroundings. This part of town was not as densely populated as the rest, but there were still a good number of people going this way and that, and the street saw cars driving up and down at least twenty times per minute. For now, she would not panic. The buildings were slowly becoming dirtier and more dilapidated, and she had a sinking suspicion that one wrong turn would lead her into No Man's Land, but she would not lose hope.

_'Maybe my Guardian Angel will come down and show me the way home,'_ Jane thought with a snort. _'They'll just come calling my name-'_

"Jane?"

_'Yeah, like that. Wait-'_

"Jane. Is that you?"

Green eyes flashed through Jane's mind, an annoying habit she had yet to drop even after a month and a half (at least there'd been no more dreams). The voice was nothing like Luke's anyway. Much too nasal, and it lacked that little growl under his words that made everything he said sound like the dirtiest thing in the world.

"Jane, hey!"

The man running towards her was shrouded in shadow, the flickering streetlights overhead were of no help to her. When he was close enough to be seen, Jane still could not understand why this man was addressing her, or how he knew her name in the first place. She was pretty sure they'd never met before.

"Hey," he said between gulps of air. He wasn't much of a runner. "Wow, I didn't I'd be seeing you around here. Is this a coincidence or what?"

"It's pretty weird alright," Jane said, and now seemed like as good a time as any to get back to that wandering aimlessly around a big city searching for home. Mr. Weirdo here would just have to wait for another time.

"Oh, come on now, don't tell me you don't recognize me," the man said with a grin that probably would've made a different man look approachable and sweet. "I tried to call you after the speed dating thing, but I just kept getting this message that the number was no longer in service. Pretty crazy, right?"

Oh.

Now she remembered.

It was amazing that she could've forgotten him, what with that obvious smarmy attitude and hair that was still too short and too dark.

"Hal," Jane said.

"Bingo!" he laughed and made to throw an arm around Jane's shoulder, but she side-stepped him at the last minute.

She started walking, not having a direction in mind and not believing for a second that he wouldn't follow (she could hope, though).

"So, what brings you out here so late at night?" He'd had to run to catch up to her, and as slow as he was, Jane had the most annoyingly short legs.

"Poor life choices," she answered.

He laughed, and to be honest, Jane couldn't blame him. Most people probably would think she was joking. They should all try dating people who attempt to get taxi drivers fired for not parking directly in front of the restaurant (even if there were cars already parked in front of it) and get back to her.

"Well, I'm glad I caught you. I was afraid I'd never see you again what with that phone number not working and all. I'm thinking I might not have copied it down right-"

"You know, I'm stretching my brain right now, and I just can't seem to recall ever giving you my number."

Hal's face fell for a moment, as if he was just realizing that himself. With a mental eye roll, Jane moved on, hoping to catch him off guard in his state of confusion and make a clean getaway. She never should've given that number to anyone.

"Hey! Wait!" he was right behind her in seconds. Luck wasn't on her side tonight at all. "How abut we exchange emails instead? Mine is-"

"I have a better idea," Jane said with an open glare. There were icicles growing off the tips of her hair and she had no further patience for anything. "How about I go in this direction-" she pointed right. "You go in _that_ direction-" she pointed left. "And we both go back to our lives as if we never saw each other. Sound good?"

Jane took one step right, stopping when fingers curled around her wrist and wrenched her back.

"Hey, I'm trying to be nice here." Hal's borderline handsome face was marred with an ugly scowl. "You could be a little more polite."

"You could try a little harder at the whole 'nice' thing," Jane shot back. "Start with letting go."

Her attempts to wrestle herself out of Hal's grip was only met with his fingers tightening and his face growing darker.

"Oh no," he pulled her in. "You're not going anywhere until you apologize."

From so close, Jane could just see the tall shadow sliding into view. Though it was too dark to see, the barest hint of narrowed green eyes gave her a pretty good hint who had just arrived.

When Jane fell to the ground, it wasn't so much that Hal let her go as it was that he was pulled away from her. He was on the ground too by the time Jane had collected herself, Luke's form tall and imposing over him, like a deadly snake about to devour it's prey.

"If you have any value at all for your pathetic little life, you will slither away like the worm you are, before I become angry."

_'What is this if not angry?'_ Jane wondered, glancing the hint of Luke's clenched white teeth visible at the side of his snarl.

"What the hell?" Hal struggled to his feet. "Why don't you get out of my face, asshole, before I make you?"

"Oh, very clever retort. I could just stay and spar with you all night long, but I think Jane here is getting cold. Run along now, little boy, while I see her home."

Luke turned away from Hal, having no more use for him than he would a used tissue. He guided Jane away, though she could argue that she needed no help, and they left Hal to gap at their backs and fade away into the night.

"I knew that man was trouble the moment I saw him," Luke said when they were halfway up the street and about to turn. "What sort of person walks around at this time of night in a neon blazer bothering defenseless women who want nothing to do with them?"

"I'm not defenseless," Jane snapped, and the ensuing grin on Luke's face somehow pissed her off more than anything Hal had done.

"I never said you were, my dear, but would be amiss to say that you would have had trouble shaking him off had I not intervened?"

Jane was not going to give him the satisfaction of a yes, or any other kind of answer. As soon as she got home (if she ever got home), she was going to immediately sign up for some self-defense classes and maybe buy a Taser like Darcy's. She should've done that ages ago exactly for times like tonight.

Rule number four.

"And what does his blazer have to do with anything?" Jane asked, for lack of anything better to say. Luke grimaced.

"It was just so tacky. It offended my good taste."

"Well, you would know," Jane said.

His fingers played with the lapel of his finely tailored suit jacket (how was he not freezing to death without a proper coat?). Once again, it appeared different than the last three. Meanwhile, Jane was asking stupid questions about stupid subjects when she should have been asking how a prostitute or whatever he wanted to call it got enough money to buy this stuff.

"So, how long have you been lost out here?" Luke asked conversationally after a period of silence.

"What makes you think I'm lost?"

"You mean you often wander around Manhattan at night without money or a phone?"

"How did you know I have no phone?"

"You just informed me of it."

He looked ready to laugh, which would have been bad for him, because if he had, Jane would've been tempted to make it so he could never make a sound again. She wasn't a violent person by nature (really, she wasn't), but she did not have time for aggravation right now.

"Well, that's all the more reason for me to start heading home," she said, leaving out the bit about not knowing where home was. "So if you don't mind, I'll just be on my way."

"If you really wish to return home, you'll stay on this path and not divert," Luke said.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Luke's answer was to jut his chin out, gesturing with it at the street ahead of them. Jane had been blind to the surrounding shops and restaurants up until now. She looked out at a string of decaying television shops and brightly lit Chinese restaurants, including the one she ordered shrimp egg foo young and spring rolls from every Thursday night. She would know that place anywhere.

"I know this neighborhood," she said, turning befuddled eyes on her companion, whom she had inadvertently allowed to lead her all this time.

"This was the route you took on our first encounter," he said, answering the question she had not yet asked. "I happen to have an excellent memory."

Jane would laugh, but the scent of soy sauce wafted heavily from that Chinese place, reminding her that she'd left her dinner untouched. She spent ten minutes inside getting her egg foo young (why should she care that it was only Sunday?), but Luke was still there waiting when she returned, his hands in his pockets and his serene smile intact.

"You know, with this whole following me around and knowing where I live thing, I could easily mistake you for a stalker," Jane said as they started walking.

"Save that for your horribly dressed friend back there," Luke scoffed. "I really am tempted to go back and have another discussion with him about respect and boundaries. In my former profession, I had to deal with many of his breed and others. It always ended the same way."

"Oh, you had another job?" Jane asked while fishing through the bag for her complimentary egg roll.

"Yes," said Luke, and though Jane didn't look up, she could sense the air around him grow thicker. "My employer only recently got into the business of prostitution. Before that, he had a number of other ventures going, until he was advised of the lucrative nature of the sex trade. At that point, I was relieved of my original duties and relocated, if you will, to the red light district."

"And what did you do before this?"

Luke stopped walking, and Jane didn't know why until the familiar light of her building's lobby flickered in her peripheral vision. She stared at it in wonderment, not so much of the light itself but how quickly she'd gotten to it with Luke around.

She knew she should thank him. He deserved it, if nothing else. If he didn't look so satisfied with himself in that smug way of his, she might've tipped him a twenty (knowing him, he'd just demand more).

"Thanks for your help," she said, holding out a hand that he wouldn't take. "With everything. I appreciate it."

"I'm always happy to be your guide and keep you safe from harm, my dear Jane."

Jane frowned, looking away quickly in the hopes that he wouldn't catch her cheeks reddening.

"Now why don't I believe that?" she muttered to herself, walking inside and away from him.

She looked back only once, to see him gone from the front steps, disappearing in the direction from whence they came.

* * *

><p>Jane had a good breakfast that morning of reheated egg foo young and a glass of milk. The milk tasted a little funny, reminding her that a trip to the market was in order. She'd get to that after work.<p>

She would have to call Betty too and let her know how things had gone. She knew Betty would apologize profusely, and try to set her up with someone else as a way of making it up to her. Jane rested on the living room couch in the hour or so she had before work, thinking about how she could nicely dissuade her friend while the TV played in the background. The reporter on the street was talking about a murder the night before, but Jane wasn't listening.

_"The unidentified man was found in an alley outside the red light district with blunt force trauma to the head and a knife wound running across the throat. First responders describe it as a grisly, yet surprising clean scene. While it is likely that the victim was involved in a physical altercation with his assailant, police have yet to find prints or a murder weapon, and are now searching for eyewitnesses who can hopefully lead them in the right direction. Meanwhile, all forms of identification have been removed from the body, and so far, the only thing police have been able to find are the shredded and burned remains of what appears to be a green or yellow blazer jacket left close to the body…"_


	6. Chapter 6

He was not going to go away. Not anymore.

Maybe there was a time when he might've-if she hadn't sought him out a second time, and then chanced upon him a third and fourth-but that was no longer an option. Jane knew it wasn't, though acknowledging it was a whole other challenge.

Their fifth encounter wasn't an accident. Not that Jane had actually been looking for him or anything, she just… wasn't not looking for him. She waited around at the bar sipping lukewarm daiquiris until he finished his meeting with another 'business associate,' a man who reminded her a bit of that Malekith guy from Thor's engagement party, what with his beady black eyes and blondish hair coated in grease. He shook Luke's hand when they were finished, and Jane could've sworn she saw Luke wipe his hand with a dinner napkin when the other man looked away.

He walked straight to her, as if he'd always known she was there in spite of Jane's efforts to hide herself. She said not a word and handed him three hundred and fifty dollars cash. That was an hour ago.

One hour later, they were back at her place. She was face down on the bed and his nimble fingers kneaded into her skin, starting at her shoulders and working his way down to the small of her back. She sighed, her whole body warm and tingling. She could float away into heaven on the backs of angels, but that would mean leaving him and his hands behind, and that was not acceptable.

"Had enough?" he asked, leaning to whisper in her ear. Tiny puffs of air caressed her ear and made her shiver.

"Not on your life," she said, her words slurring as he trailed back up to her shoulder blades.

Luke hummed, pulling away slightly, much to her displeasure. A tiny grumble would have made it known, had he not found just the right spot to touch her. It became a happy moan that he greeted with laughter.

"If I'd known how responsive you are to a good massage, I would have suggested this ages ago."

"Yeah, well don't think you're getting a big tip just for this," Jane said, rubbing her eyes to make the room stop spinning. "I have no spare cash for the rest of the month thanks to you."

"I'd be happy to offer you a refund if you are not satisfied with my services."

He pressed that sweet spot again, as if to rub it in her face that such a concept was impossible, because he was just that good. She almost wanted to ask for that refund just to spite him. Instead she sunk back into the mattress, burying her face within the folds of her comforter so that all the little sounds his ministrations evoked couldn't reach him. He was moving back up to her shoulders now, electricity radiating up and down her body. Muffled words that not even she could understand expressed something along the lines of five hours not being nearly enough.

"Since it's you, I can throw in two more for free."

Jane moved her head to the side with some difficulty. She wasn't sure if she'd actually heard that or if the lack of oxygen was causing her to hallucinate. Her eyes strained to meet his, and she found him smirking.

"After that, I'm afraid I'd have to charge full price."

He pressed one more tiny circle into the space below her neck and then backed away, rubbing some kind of cream over his hands while Jane rolled onto her back and definitely did not pout. She remembered too late that her shirt and her bra were off, but couldn't find it in her to care once the initial mortification wore off. It was nothing he hadn't seen before anyway.

It might've helped that he was similarly divest of clothing from the waist up. She didn't know why he'd felt the need to strip down to just his pants to give her a back rub, but as he stopped to stretch, and the muscles of his back and shoulders flexed, she wasn't exactly complaining.

"Now then, I think you're relaxed enough." He walked around the side of the bed, his fingers running featherlight over her legs all the way to her stomach. After the last hour, his touch was like pure heat, and Jane couldn't hope to stifle a moan.

"I think I could be more relaxed," she said, rolling onto her side. His hand stopped her.

"I'm sorry, my dear, but anymore, and I think your mind might just go, along with your body."

In spite of herself, Jane rolled her eyes.

"You sure think highly of your own abilities."

"Your reactions are quite encouraging."

He was just below her breasts now, naked and pebbled from the air and from him. Jane closed her fists around her sheets. If she didn't keep them busy, they'd be clawing at those pants of his and then shoving him down onto the mattress. She was pretty sure all of that was his job.

"You know, I don't remember giving you permission to touch me there yet," she said with a grin she couldn't contain. "I could dock your pay for that."

"You've already paid me." He grinned back. There was a lump of her money in his right pocket, and Jane could see it mocking her.

"I'll kick your ass then."

"Please don't. I rather need my ass, as well as my face, to keep my livelihood." He still hadn't moved his fingers an inch. "Plus, I have a rare blood type, so I would prefer not to lose too much of it."

"Well, isn't that convenient?" Jane brought up her arms to lift her head, bending her body so that her chest jutted out, and made her needs known beyond their banter.

Yet still, he made her wait. He traced a line back down her stomach, on the other side from whence he came, completing a lopsided circle over her abdomen. Though there was must Jane could say about his teasing, it soon became apparent what he was trying to do.

His fingers ran along the rim of her pants, occasionally dipping beneath the waistband. He never went in deep, preferring to stave off the main event for as long as possible. Jane remembered this from their first time together. He had started off just like this, taking so achingly slow a pace that Jane began to wonder if he was doing this intentionally because he wasn't actually that good with 'the main event.'

He had then spent the rest of the night proving her utterly wrong, and most likely ruining her for other men. She could admit that to herself now.

When he finally had enough of driving her to the brink of madness, he found the zipper and pulled it down. Her pants slipped off her legs and her panties went with them, but though Jane was now cold all over, she couldn't say she mourned the loss. Not when he was moving back up her legs and hovering directly over her core.

He wore a look that was unlike anything Jane had ever seen, as he sunk to his knees and covered her partially with his body. It was something wicked and mischievous, and it told her everything about how this night was going to go. He was going to play with her, draw it out until she couldn't take it anymore. He was going to kiss every inch of her from the neck down, never straying any higher (he never had before).

He was going to leave those stupid pants on, until she really was going to have to shred them.

He started from the top, running his tongue along the side of her neck, leaving a wet trail behind along her collarbone. His mouth moved downward while his fingers stayed right above the top of her clit, not quite pressing down, but applying just enough pressure that she was all too aware of his presence. He reached her breast, drawing a line up to her nipple. He circled it…

And five loud knocks shook the apartment and nearly caused her front door to cave in.

Luke stilled, lifting his head to watch the ajar bedroom door, as if someone was going to burst through any second. Jane, for her part, was too busy seething to even notice the loss of his hot breath and fingertips on her sensitive areas until it was too late.

"Were you expecting someone?"

Jane slid out of bed feet first. "Nope."

She walked to the door, grabbing her bathrobe off the top of the laundry bin first. It was the puffy one that was a size too big. She tightened it around herself-she could just tell whoever this was that she was about to get in the shower. Could they possibly come back later? Like, say, a month from now?

Jane peeked out the keyhole first, as the apartment safety guide warned in big black letters to always do. Jane understood why. The man at the door was neither familiar nor the kind of person you wanted in your home under any circumstances.

He appeared to be about eight feet tall and built like a gorilla. He had a sharp face set in a stony frown, and eyes so beady they might as well not even be there. He wore a business suit like Luke, and yet not like Luke. Luke's wardrobe fit him like a glove, whereas this guy would probably be more in place wearing leather and chains. His fist was raised, either to knock again or to skip the semantics and punch a hole in the door. His meaty hand was adorned with golden rings, including one that formed a gnarled letter K. Jane couldn't not believe that it's bent shape hadn't come from punching one too many faces in.

But that was unfair, wasn't it? She had yet to even talk to the guy, and she was judging him by his appearance alone. Maybe he was just a scary looking family man on his way to visit a sick relative on another floor, and he was a little lost and needed directions. Something like that.

Jane opened the door an inch.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Where the fuck is he?"

Jane blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play stupid. I know that pasty little fuck is in here. Tell him to come out now, or I'm coming in."

Okay. Maybe she'd been right all along. She checked that her brand new Taser was still sitting on the end table, and that the chain on the door was firmly in place.

"You know, if you want something, you could try saying please," she said, sounding much braver than she felt. "How about you get lost now. You're interrupting something anyway."

His fist hit the door, and it almost gave. The gold chain held firm, but the force had left cracks along the wall reaching like a spider's web.

The man pressed his face into the space between the door frame before Jane could slam it shut. His putrid breath in her face forced her back, and he pushed open the door as far as it would go.

"I'm going to give you one more chance," his eyes darkened so much that Jane could hardly see them. "Tell him to get out here right now, or I'm going to come in there and drag him out."

"Stop it, Kurse."

Luke entered the room. He was buttoning his shirt and his shoes were back on his feet. From the awkward way he walked, they seemed to be on the wrong feet, but that was far from the first thing on Jane's mind right now.

"What is going on here?" she hissed in Luke's ear.

He walked right on by. Approaching the door, he waited for the man called Kurse to back up, glaring at him all the while, then he undid the latch and opened the door just enough for him to step through.

"Stay here, Jane," he said, and were it not for the use of her name, she wouldn't even know he was talking to her.

The door closed behind him, cutting off the sound of Kurse's heavy breathing, and rendering the voices of the two men a quiet mish mash of noise without meaning.

Jane stood stock still for all of half a second. Then she rushed to the door and shoved her ear into the cold metal above the peephole. Her hand inched to the knob, just in case she heard something she didn't like. She eyed the Taser one more time, and noted it's close proximity to her silverware drawer.

The door was several inches thick, but with all other sounds muted, Jane could just make them out.

"…I don't know why you are bothering me when I'm working. Couldn't this have waited for tomorrow?"

Luke dry tone was almost too easy to pick out, just as the raspy growl of Kurse was.

"When you're breaking the rules and acting like a loose cannon, there is no waiting. Or did you really believe we wouldn't find out about it?"

A short silence followed.

"I'm not sure what you mean. Care to elaborate?"

"That depends," Kurse said, and from here, his voice went much lower, and Jane could only pick up pieces of what he was saying. "Could it be… had dinner with, or that poor sap in the ugly… found in the alleyway? …that ringing any bells…?"

Now a longer silence.

Jane looked through the peephole. Luke was staring down at his incorrectly placed shoes, his fists clenched and his teeth bared. Kurse had his arms crossed and a face like a cat who'd just caught a mouse it's in claws.

"I didn't know what I did during my personal time was any of your concern," said Luke.

"You don't have personal time working for us." Kurse leaned in. "When you aren't flashing your pretty face for all the lonely bitches of the world, you're doing whatever the boss tells you to do, and you're not getting your hands dirty unless you're told to. Get it?"

"In my defense, I was very careful," Luke gave a cheeky smile. "I've had more than enough practice, as you are no doubt aware."

"Oh yeah, sure. You're still alive right now because of that." Kurse placed his hand on a gun shaped bulge in his right pocket, the one Jane hadn't noticed until now. "But let me ask you something, _Luke_, are you gonna tell Mommy that when she's got a bullet in her head?"

The door seemed to get a whole lot colder, or maybe that was just the air. Either way, it radiated straight from one source. The smile had fallen from Luke's face, and what took it's place was something like pain, something like fear, and something like rage all rolled into one. Jane didn't think she'd ever met a man with a face as expressive as Luke's was.

"Oh, don't like that, do you?" Kurse cooed. "I saw Mommy just the other day getting her hair done. She was so pretty, I almost couldn't control my trigger finger. It doesn't have to be her who goes first either, you know. I could start with Daddy or Big Brother. I see them around all the time, too. All it takes is one little misstep, and you get a lovely family reunion in the morgue."

"You wouldn't dare," Luke spoke through his teeth. "That isn't part of the deal."

"The deal is that you do as you're told, and they get to keep breathing," Kurse closed the gap a little more. Jane almost thought for one nauseating second that Kurse was going to kiss him. "You step out of line, and Malekith paints them a pretty red color."

Kurse walked around the rigid form of Luke, who couldn't even form a rebuttal as his body shook and his face blanched a sickly white.

"We'll talk again soon," Kurse said, though by now he was long out of view. "Don't worry about calling, I'll know how to find you. You like this chick here a lot, don't you?"

The elevator dinged and the voice of Kurse disappeared. Where he was going, how he'd gotten in, and how traumatized the poor doorman had to be right now were not majors concerns of Jane's right now.

Did he just say _Malekith_?

_Malekith_ would do something to Luke's family?

Thor's father's evil old business partner Malekith?

They couldn't possibly be talking about the same guy…

But it had to be. That wasn't a name Jane expected to hear twice in one lifetime.

The millions of questions she wanted to ask almost came spilling out of her a full five minutes later, when Luke regained himself enough to walk through her door looking like he'd zombified in the time since Jane last saw him.

"What was that all about?" she asked first. Demanded was more like it. "Do you actually work with that guy?"

Luke's eyes were on the floor even still. He leaned slightly to one side thanks to the problem of his shoes, and he shook his head in tiny motions. It almost looked like he was having a seizure.

"I can't do this…"

"Do what?" Jane asked.

But he was already on the move, going back to her bedroom and retrieving his coat from the floor. He didn't worry about his shoes, though Jane doubted that was comfortable. He threw on his coat and shoved his tie into one of the deep pockets.

"I'm sorry. I have to go." He was halfway back to the door, and Jane's jaw was on the ground.

"What are you talking about?"

"This is where we part ways, Jane Foster. Please don't come looking for me again. I apologize for cutting this night short, but trust me when I say it's for the best."

"No, I'm not trusting you," Jane said, and though she knew how that sounded, she couldn't backtrack now. "Could you just tell me what's going on instead of walking away with my money like-"

He placed the wad of her cash in her open hand. Jane's words cut off and she stared at it for a long minute. Long enough for him to walk out of her apartment into the hall. His retreating footsteps roused her.

"Wait a minute!"

Jane dropped the money on the table and ran after him. None of her neighbors had come out in the commotion, but Jane had long since forgotten that she was clad only in a loose fitting bathrobe. She ran all the way to the elevators, but no one stood waiting for them, and the numbers were making their way down to zero at much too quick a pace.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Wow, that was fast. I don't know, I just started writing this one, and then I couldn't stop. It's an important chapter. The story is really going to get started now.**

* * *

><p>For a week, she didn't see him. Didn't hear from him at all.<p>

She didn't look for him either. Work got in the way, and then there was shopping for baby stuff with Darcy (who wanted to be surprised and so needed an equal amount of boy and girl stuff so that she'd be ready for anything). On Friday, that lazy eyed woman from accounting finally caught up with her and wanted to hear how the speed dating thing went. Jane learned that her name was Annie, and that Annie was easily distracted from idle conversation by the promise of chocolate chip muffins in the cafeteria. All in all, she'd had far too much to do to add Luke-hunting to the list.

And really, why should she spend her time searching for a man she barely knew, let alone a prostitute?

So what if the sex was good. She'd had good sex before, and with people she actually knew! She certainly wasn't picking through newspapers and magazines for a hint of an update on Donald Blake's big fancy wedding next Spring.

Okay, one time, and only because she was bored.

But it didn't matter. She didn't know anything about Luke or who he was or what he was all about. That guy, Kurse, could've been anyone. He sure had no trouble using violence to get what he wanted. What could Luke have ever done to get on the wrong side of someone like that? She didn't think he was capable of hurting someone, or committing a crime, but what could she really say about him beyond that he was impossibly smug about everything and good in bed. Lord only knows what he was like on his own, when she wasn't around.

So in the end, there was no reason for her to worry about Luke or think about him at all. She would have to remember that, and stop staying up in the middle of the night when she had work the next day, wondering where he was and if he was okay, and what that demon faced man at Thor's engagement party had to do with any of this…

* * *

><p>On Sunday morning—a week after Jane had to make an excuse to the building manager about the cracks on the door—she got a call from Sif while sitting down to breakfast.<p>

"I'm sorry to call so early," Sif started by saying. "I needed to talk to you about something important, and it's probably better if I do so in person. Is there a place where we can meet up?"

They arranged to get together at the Starbucks just up the road from Jane's apartment. Close enough that she could walk, but not too far as to be a long drive for Sif. Jane was happy to have remembered her wallet this time, and treated herself to a caramel latte and a sugary scone. She had gotten two full nights of sleep in a row and helped close a major deal at work last Friday. She deserved it.

Sif arrived ten minutes later, looking like she'd literally dropped everything at work just to come down. Her hair was thrown back in a messy ponytail, and her sweatpants and shirt were ruffled and faded.

"Hi, thanks so much for coming," she said after making her order and sitting down.

Jane smiled back. "Believe me, I don't need a reason to come down here and get a biscuit."

She ripped off a small piece and then offered some of the remainder to Sif, who shook her head.

"No thanks, I'm not one for sweets." She left briefly when her name was called to pick up her decaffeinated coffee. "Anyway, the reason I asked you here is because we're having a little problem with the wedding."

"Oh yeah?" Jane took a sip of her drink and pursed her lips. She should've asked for extra caramel.

"Last week, one of my bridesmaids broke her leg while on a ski trip. She's going to be all right, but it's a pretty serious injury, so she's decided to spend some time recuperating at her parents' house, and she's going to have to miss my wedding."

"Wow, that's awful," Jane said. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, but she waited for Sif to continue.

"So now I'm short one bridesmaid, and I need a replacement before the rehearsal dinner," Sif gave her a meaningful look. "I know we haven't known each other for very long, but you are a friend of Thor's, so I was hoping you'd agree to be my bridesmaid."

_"For real?"_ The last time Jane had been part of a wedding, it was her Aunt Marcia's, and she'd been the flower girl. Her cousins thought it would be funny to replace her flowers with poison oak leaves, and that whole experience had turned Jane off from weddings for a long time. "Are you sure you want me?"

"Of course," Sif said. "The dresses are already picked out, we'd just have to have Maria's resized to fit you, and don't worry, I'm not one of those brides who puts the bridesmaids in hideous dresses just to make myself look good."

"No, I can't imagine that," Jane said with a little, not-so-certain laugh of her own.

And that was how she got roped into wedding duty. Before that, she'd been unsure if she wanted to go to the wedding at all, and now she was part of it. The next few weeks was a rush of meeting with the other bridesmaids and the maid of honor, helping them plan the bachelorette party, getting fitted for her dress (which, true to Sif's word, was not ugly in the slightest), and when wedding duties were over with, fielding late night phone calls from an overly emotional Darcy, over Ian being two minutes late coming home from work, and getting her pickles with her ice cream when she wanted sour cream.

At some point when Jane wasn't looking, her life had transformed into a chick flick.

At least she could say that she hadn't thought about Luke once.

Nope. Not at all. Not even once.

* * *

><p>The rehearsal dinner came faster than Jane anticipated, not that this was her fault.<p>

"Isn't the wedding still a month away?" Jane whispered to the maid of honor, a pretty redheaded woman who seemed to get more stares from men than the bride herself.

"Sif and Thor are busy people. They make time when they can." And then she left to meet her husband over by the drinks table. She was not the friendliest, that Natasha Barton. Two weeks of seeing her almost every day, and Jane still didn't know if that was her usual nature, or if Mrs. Barton really just didn't like her for whatever reason.

At least the other members of the wedding party were pleasant company. She had gotten properly acquainted with Fandral, who made sure to flirt with her right off the bat, just as Jane made sure to turn him down right off the bat. He had pouted a little, and Jane had to admit he had a cute pouty face, but he got over it fast and went to sweet talk one of caterers. Hogun, a groomsmen whose arm Jane would be on during the wedding march, let it slip to her that Fandral had hit on every eligible woman in the room at least once. Everyone except Natasha, because she was married, Fandral said.

"It's actually because he's terrified of her," said Hogun in the middle of drinks and more of those delicious hors d'oeuvres. "He never tried it with Sif for the same reason."

"And because Thor would kill him too," Jane said while biting into a cheese wedge.

Hogun nodded. "Yes, but it's mostly Sif. Thor would at least give him a headstart."

Jane burst out laughing, earning stares from a few people sitting close by. It wasn't so much what Hogun said that tickled her as it was how he said it. Hogun had to be the most stoic man she'd ever met. In the time Jane had known him, not once had a smile graced his features, but he was not without humor, and he could say some of the craziest things with a perfectly straight face. There were professional comedians who couldn't do it half as well as he did.

When dinner commenced, Jane found herself sandwiched between another bridesmaid and someone else she knew nothing about. First course was served—Jane couldn't help noticing Fandral and that one caterer were suspiciously absent—and conversation sprung up all around her. Not being well-acquainted with most of the people present, Jane focused mainly on her food. It was delicious enough that this wasn't a problem, but the abundant drinks and salad bar had nature calling fast. Jane had to weed her way through a thickening sea of bodies to get to the restroom, but it had thinned out by the time she was finished, everyone having refilled their drinks and prepared for the next course to be served.

Several people still were not seated, including the bride and groom themselves. Jane found them hovering over a cart of bread baskets, speaking in hushed tones. Whatever they were talking about while hidden away from the rest of the party had to be serious, and Jane would've preferred not to bother them. As she passed, their words carried through the air to her ears.

"It's been a good night. Not a sign of that bastard, Malekith, since the start."

"Darling, don't-"

While Sif admonished her husband to be not to speak so freely and jinx them, a proverbial dam burst open within Jane, and everything she had worked so hard for weeks to forget and ignore came flooding out.

Luke's conversation with Kurse, every dirty detail of it, played out in her head, with extra care going to that crucial moment.

_'Malekith will paint them a pretty red color.'_

'Malekith _will paint them pretty red.'_

_'Malekith.'_

Just who the hell _was_ this Malekith person?

There was a tickle in Jane's throat. She felt it clear as day, so no one could say that she coughed just to get Thor and Sif's attention. There was the opportunity, and though good judgment dictated that she should excuse herself and move on, Jane remained in place.

"Sorry, couldn't help overhearing," she said, and that was probably not the best place to start, because Thor was looking like he wanted to kick himself for bringing Malekith up with people around. This was clearly a much sorer subject than Jane realized. "I just… I know Sif told me a little about this Malekith guy and…" _'Make up a lie, Jane. Lie now!'_ "I heard some of your relatives talking about him, too. If you don't mind me asking, what- what exactly did he do? I mean- to you guys, what did he do?"

Jane mumbled the last few words, and though they jumbled together and mortification was definitely rising in her gut (she should've just walked away), Thor just gave a solemn shake of his head, his broad shoulders sagging.

"If you'd heard so much already, I don't blame you for being curious," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't fret, Jane Foster, I don't fault you for it. Malekith has always been something of a thorn in my family's side, but the short version is that many years ago, my father discovered him engaging in some shady business deals and reported him to the authorities."

"Shady… you mean like the mafia?" Jane asked. Unwelcome images of Luke blindfolded and tied to a chair with a gun to his head flashed in her mind's eye.

"I'm afraid I don't know all the details myself," Thor said. "My father was only willing to divulge so much to us. What I know is that Malekith was able to buy his way out of prison, but his reputation in the business world was forever tarnished. Few legitimate businesses would associate with him, and last we heard, he'd completely embraced organized crime."

"Word is that he runs everything from extortion to drug rings," Sif said, with a look like she'd just smelled something nasty.

"And prostitution?" Jane asked automatically.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Thor said with another, longer sigh. "Anyway, Malekith swore to my father that one day, he'd have his revenge. So far, that has only ever extended to crashing our family gettogethers and sending unwanted gifts for holidays and birthdays. That started about four years ago. I have no idea what he hopes to gain from it."

"He hopes for nothing, he's just insane." Sif started to walk past them, raising her empty wine glass to a passing waiter. "If he even thinks about showing up tonight…"

Sif was gone before she could explain just what would happen to Malekith should he make an appearance tonight, but it was just as well. Nothing she could have said would match what Jane was picturing.

With Sif and her ice cold hatred gone, there was only Thor left, Thor and his warmth. Jane felt it when he placed a friendly hand on her shoulder, and it eased the fear that had been coursing through her, centered entirely on a man whose life seemed more hellish the more Jane heard.

"You don't have to worry about old Malekith, Jane," Thor said. "He's clearly too much of a coward to make good on his promise. All he is is a glorified nuisance. You'll likely never see him again."

Someone called Thor away right then, and though he hesitated, Jane gave him a grin and a little joke to let him see that she was appeased.

She walked through the party, having missed the main course and not feeling so hungry anyway. If someone tried to address her, she didn't know. Everywhere she looked, she kept thinking there were redish eyes watching her, or long fingers brushing the nape of her neck. Truly nothing in her life would ever make less sense than how much effort she had to put towards forgetting him, and how comically little was needed to make all that work for naught.

Darcy once told her that she needed to either get a hobby or get laid. Getting laid hadn't worked out so well; maybe she should take up knitting.

There was still another hour of this stupid premature rehearsal dinner that she had to get through, and once a real and tangible hand clamped around her wrist, it seemed her need for a distraction had finally been met.

"Jane, come in here. You're needed."

It was Fandral. He'd finished whatever he was doing with that caterer (who was in the corner fixing her hair and her skirt), and now it seemed he'd gone passed pretty words and straight into action. He led her into a room where the rest of the wedding part waited. Natasha was leaning against a curtained wall beside a big screen TV, tapping her foot. She turned hard eyes on Fandral.

"About time you found her. Now we can get on with it."

"Sorry, Nat. She was a little hard to find." He flashed Jane a 120 watt grin, his specialty, it seemed. "Take a seat, Jane. You know how important this is."

"No, I don't," Jane said, lowering herself into the nearest empty chair. "You never told me."

"Didn't I?" Whether or not Fandral was genuinely befuddled at his own forgetfulness, Jane neither knew nor cared, so long as whatever this was did not involve her problems (no, _Luke's_problems) at all.

"We're making a video for Thor and Sif, to show at the wedding reception," said Hogun from his spot next to fellow groomsman, Volstagg.

"We thought it would be a nice gesture, from us to them, and even though it was finished before you came on board, you deserve to see the finished product with the rest of us."

Jane couldn't really see how that was, but Mrs. Barton wasn't the kind of person you wanted to argue with on little things. She sat tight as Hogun popped in the DVD, and the TV flared to life, showing a well rendered shot of a silhouetted couple at sunset. Pretty cliché, at least until it segued into video of one of Thor's wrestling matches, followed by Sif dropkicking an opponent in a fighting ring. Across the screen, the title faded in.

THOR & SIF: A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

Jane cracked a smile, her tiny chuckle drowned out by Fandral and Volstagg's raucous laughter. She had a good idea of who'd come up with that opening.

_'Chronicling the life and times of the handsome Thor Odinson and the beautiful Sif Jaimeson, from its fruitful beginnings…'_

A shot of Thor and Sif as children in the sandbox. Little Thor had a bucket full of sand, which he proceeded to empty over little Sif's head.

_'To the glorious present…'_

A grown up Thor and Sif were arm in arm at a New Year's celebration, and an obviously tipsy Sif was about to dump her drink into Thor's hair.

_'And onwards to the future. When we look at them now, we know that true love exists. We see two people so thoroughly made for each other, that it's written in the stars.'_

Back to young Thor and Sif, sitting on a picnic blanket watching fireworks. There was another child with them, with a head of black hair, so dark that he was almost invisible except in the moments that the light flashed.

_'Though they've endured many trials in their lives, their love for each other has never faltered, never faded.'_

A slideshow of pictures commenced, first showing Sif with a man and a woman, both with similar color schemes as her. The pictures from there showed Sif only with the man, the two aging before Jane's eyes, until the final shot of a darkened grave.

Well, that was pretty morbid.

But it wasn't the end. Next was a Polaroid photo of little Thor with that black haired boy. Loki, if Jane remembered correctly. Thor's dearly departed younger brother who saw fit to end his life in the most brutal way possible. Was this really something they wanted to remind people of at a wedding?

The pictures continued, showing a progression of ages for Thor and his brother. They were toddlers first, and then they were young boys playing in the pool with rubber floaties. Then they were close to preteen age. Little Loki was growing into his weedy frame, and his face thinned out as he reached teenage years. At sixteen, he'd started to grow his hair long, and the way it framed his face was a real improvement, not that he didn't already have a nice face.

In fact, he had a _very_ nice face. A familiar face. A face that Jane knew…

But it couldn't possibly be what she though it was. No, it had to be a coincidence. Loki was dead. She knew that.

The pictures continued, through junior and senior prom, through high school graduation, then college graduations. They'd both gone to the same school. They were so tall now. They looked so strong. They had become men before Jane's eyes.

And it was no longer a coincidence. Not at all.

Jane stared at the screen until her eyes hurt. The picture was frozen. Or maybe she was frozen. Maybe it was burned into her skull and she'd be seeing it forever.

She couldn't move. She couldn't speak, except for one word wrenched deep from her throat.

"Luke…"

She almost missed Fandral's eyes on her as the video came to an end, the concern evident there.

"Jane, are you all right? Jane?" He waved a hand in her face, laughing nervously when she didn't respond. "From that look, I'd reckon you've just seen a ghost."

Jane turned her head, slow and stilted like a mechanical dummy. She looked at him, not really _seeing_ him there. She couldn't see anything real right now.

"Fandral, you have _no_ idea."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: After this chapter, this story will be going on a short hiatus until sometime in mid-January. I need to work on some other things before I can come back to this.**

**Thanks for understand (and I hope you don't hate me for leaving off where I did).**

* * *

><p>The place looked even worse the third time around, all those decaying buildings and filthy streets covered in garbage. The cleanest, most modern thing around was a tall street lamp with a light flickering in and out of existence. The long crack around the circumference of the bulb suggested that someone had tried to knock it out once.<p>

A homeless man in a beat up army jacket slept beneath it, his sign face down against his chest. Jane wouldn't wake him, but left the two dollar bills she fished out of the glove compartment in his cup. There was her good deed of the week. She could go home now with a clean conscience.

The next few people she saw were awake and standing, but not exactly the type she wanted pal around with on an average day. One man leered at her as she drove down the length of his street. He had a woman on each arm and blew smoke from his cigarette in a way Jane supposed was meant to be enticing. All it did was remind her of her first college boyfriend, who smoked three packs a day, and how kissing him made Jane feel like she was going to die of smoke inhalation.

She turned onto another block, and this was one she knew all too well. She slowed to a stop at the corner. On the other end was a streetlight that, unlike the last one, shone bright like the sun on this dark, dank night Jane would have liked to spend at home with a hot cup of cocoa and the TV remote. It was so bright that all within its reach was hers to see, from the open manhole in the middle of the street, to the long shadow that stretched from the feet of the person pacing under it.

Jane's heart leapt. She hit the gas and flew down the street, letting up on the pedal as it came to her that mowing people down in this side of the city wasn't bound to be a good idea. She still kept to twenty miles an hour until the person on the street corner moved into the light. Their short, stocky frame clothed in bright blues and a faux leather miniskirt couldn't possibly belong to the person Jane was looking car came to a sluggish halt next to a building that used to be an ice cream shop, if the peeling gold sign is any indication. She was a good ten feet away from the woman in Luke's spot (_'no Jane, not Luke,'_ she reminded herself for the tenth time that day). That must have been good enough for the eager prostitute. She wobbled on four inch stiletto heels, careful of cracks in the pavement. Her perfect plump red lips and fair skin seemed more and more artificial the closer she came.

"Hey there, cutie," she slung an arm through the side door window, the one Jane really should have rolled up before she came out here. "I've been waiting for a pretty face like yours to come by. You looking to have a good time tonight?"

"I'm looking for a person." Jane sat up a little straighter. "A man, that is. He has-"

"Oh, _of course_ you're looking for a man." The woman leaned against the car, over the open window. The scent of her perfume filled the enclosed space, as strong as if Jane had fallen asleep with the engine running. "Here I am, standing under this dirty streetlight all day long, getting nothing but smelly old men who don't understand that I'm a ladies' lady, then finally a chick comes around after hours of the same old shit, and wouldn't you know it? She's straight. Just my luck."

The woman pushed herself off the car, slamming a fist into the door that thankfully didn't leave a dent (though there would be a distinct perfume-y smell permeating the vehicle for months after). She chose a pole that once boasted a street sign as her new resting place, kicking out a foot to balance one impossible heel on the cement.

Jane coughed. "Well, I'm really sorry about that, Miss…"

"Opal," the woman supplied with a sniff. "And don't call me Miss. Only paying customer get to call me anything other than Opal, we clear?"

"Yeah, we're clear," Jane said, thinking now might be the time to excuse herself and go on her merry way. "Listen, the guy I'm looking for usually stands under this lamp post."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," said Opal. "I'm only here because the space was free and I got a tip off that chicks are all over it."

"I can imagine," Jane said, picturing for a moment a line of cars running up and down the street, driven by eager woman waiting for a taste of what Luke (_'Not Luke, Jane.'_) could offer them. The fantasy didn't last long, it couldn't. Not when something deep within Jane that she barely recognized as a part of herself wanted all those imaginary woman to drive themselves off a cliff for even daring to think they could have him.

Jane shook her head hard, dislodging thoughts that disturbed her more than the truth of Luke (_'Not Luke'_)'s origins ever could.

"A-anyway, this guy… he calls himself Luke. He's really tall, like over six feet. He has black hair to his shoulders, green eyes, and he always wears a suit."

Opal tapped a finger to her chin, her lips puckered in thought, like she was going to lean in and kiss the top of Jane's car.

"Hmmm… that does ring a bell… your guy a limey, by any chance?"

"If you're asking if he's British, then yes, I think so."

Of course, he would logically have to be since she knew Thor's family had moved here from London when he was a teenager, but there was no need to get into that right now.

"Then yeah, I've seen him around," said Opal. "If that's the guy you're looking for, you might want to turn right around and head home, sweetheart, because he hasn't been working the streets for days. You'd have better luck finding a virgin at a stag party than finding Mr. Stuffy Fruitcake anywhere in these parts."

"Wait, hang on a second, what do you mean he hasn't been around? Where has he been?"

"Shit if I know," Opal said with a shrug. "We ladies and gents of the night don't exactly go for a tight knit working environment. The only reason I know about your guy is because he went out for drinks with my boy, Horatio, one time, asking him things about his work outside of this, as if that two bit weasel had anything else going except another round of drinks."

She fell silent for a time, muttering occasionally and laughing at whatever inane joke she'd just made that Jane would never hear.

"So you haven't seen him recently is what you're saying."

Opal made that pucker face again.

"I think I saw him yesterday, either that or there's some other tall, dark, and freaky dude stealing all the chicks away." She snorted. "He was two blocks down that way having a cigarette and watching some other creep in a suit across the street. I doubt he's still hanging around, but you could check if you're _that_ eager for his dick. Have a good time."

Opal turned on a heel (which looked close to snapping in half), and that was the end of the conversation. Jane was not likely to get anything else out of her.

She took the left turn Opal had indicated. It brought her to a more open area that was just as dark as any other. There was slightly less grime and a few more people, but that was about all the good Jane had to say.

A few prostitutes, some she recognized from her first time around, glanced hopefully at her car, but Jane had no time to humor them. She drove on, passing an old building with a high stoop. The windows were broken and boarded up, but five or six women littered the steps, enjoying cigarettes and applying make-up. As always, some of them looked her way, only to scoff and go back to sucking ash when she didn't stop.

"Hey!" a raspy voice shouted when Jane stopped at a light. "All little girls should be in bed right now!"

If they laughed, the revving of the engine muted them, and Jane couldn't disagree beyond the patronizing tone anyway. She should be home right now like a normal person. She should not be out in the red light district getting directions from angry lesbian prostitutes, but here she was. No sense in turning back now.

She drove up and down the street one more time. Those smoking woman had lost all interest in her now that some rich-looking guy in a Maserati was pulling up. They crowded around him and Jane took the time to look over their place of business. He could've been hiding behind the stone steps all this time, hidden in shadow and a gaggle of female co-workers.

The only thing she saw was a beat up metal garbage can and a mangy old cat who'd made a bed out of it. The women returned, missing one of their number, and as the luxury car sped off into the distance, so did Jane make her way to the curb.

When she did find him, it was completely by chance, a twist of fate that some would attribute to the direct intervention of a higher power. Jane was not one of those people, so for her it was just a fortunate coincidence that of all places, he'd be back in the alley where she'd run into Hal, and that she'd find him at the exact moment she was ready to give up and forget the whole thing.

At first she didn't see him. She came so close to speeding by, that once he appeared in the side of her vision, all decked out in his usual black and walking with purposeful steps and a tall stance (that nevertheless seemed forced once Jane could see him clearly), she almost cracked her head on the windshield putting on the brakes.

She got out of the car. She'd thought about doing that a couple of times before to search for him on foot, until she had the good sense to realize what a terrible idea that would be. She didn't even have her taser.

She followed him a few feet back, her throat closed up so she couldn't call out.. He kept walking, he never slowed down no matter how loud her sneakers smacked against the sidewalk. When she was close enough to touch him, one shakey hand reached out and pressed ever so lightly into his back. The material of his coat was so rough and thick, that she didn't think he would feel it, and she very nearly ran into him when he abruptly stopped walking.

"I told you not to look for me."

The brusque tone of his voice should have been enough to get a remark of equal or more venom from Jane, but just for tonight, she smothered that impulse. This wasn't another carefree fling where she reluctantly parted with a huge chunk of her life savings, and then he fucked her into oblivion all night long. This was serious. This could be life-changing if Jane played her cards right.

"I know what you said." She'd been preparing herself for this moment ever since she got home from the rehearsal dinner, going over scenarios and different ways he could react to what she knew. So far, it wasn't doing her much good where nerves were concerned. "I'm only here because... something came up, and I wanted to talk to you."

He turned around, and though the lights on his face were too dim for Jane to be sure, what little she saw told her that he hadn't been sleeping much.

"I can't imagine what that what be."

He started walking, right back the way he came. Was he even going anywhere?

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, running to catch up. "I was looking for you over at that street corner, you know, the one where I first picked you up-"

"I know where it is," he spat. "And you shouldn't have been anywhere near it. Dammit, woman, don't you understand when you're not wanted?"

He was yelling now, loud enough that someone from a miraculously still in use building turned on their lights and opened the window, shouting at them to 'shut the fuck up.' Jane didn't listen.

"You can't talk to me like that, I came here tonight because I wanted to see you, and I _need_ to talk to you."

"Whatever it is, bring it up to someone who cares. Now if you'll excuse me-"

"No,_ I will not excuse you!_"

It was with force Jane never could've possessed without a truckload of adrenaline coursing through her system that she took him by the arm and spun him to face her. Once she let go, it could only be the frustration she knew to be written all over her face that kept him still, and if so, Jane was glad for it. She had to get this out before she keeled over from exhaustion.

"Fine then," he said, deceptively soft. "Go ahead."

It was a challenge Jane was only too happy to take. If he thought that flimsy play at intimidation was going to work on her, he really didn't know her well at all.

"I wanted to tell you... uh..."

"So far, this is very informative."

"What I'm trying to say," she paused, first to glare at him, then to breathe in and out, as long and as deep as her lungs would allow. "I wanted to tell you that my boss is getting married."

He blinked, his eyes going wide in mock surprise.

"Captivating. I'm so glad I stuck around to hear this fascinating little tidbit about the lives of your fellows. Thank you, Jane."

This time, she let him get a few steps away, far enough that she had no choice but to speak her next words as loudly as she could.

"You don't understand. My boss is Thor. Thor and Sif are getting married."

She expected him to stop, and she expected his frame to crumble after a few long moments of rigidity. She didn't expect the blank expression that greeted her when he slowly met her gaze once more, like a perfect porcelain mask.

"I know not what you mean," he even spoke robotically now, and Jane's bullshit meter was going into overdrive.

"I think you do," she said, stepping closer to him and away from her car and relative safety. "I want to understand what is happening here. I want to know why."

"Why, what?" he asked.

"Why... everything," Jane could have laughed, had the air not taken on that impenetrable thickness she'd come to associate with him. "Why are we here right now? Why are_ you_ here? There's a man out there who's been devastated for four whole years because he thinks his brother burned to death. There's a couple who lost their son and have to live with the thought that he took his own life. Why is that? Why did that family have to be split apart like that? Can you tell me, Loki? Can you tell me why?"

Jane wasn't crying, but she felt like she should be. She wasn't one for big impassioned speeches, outside the stuff she had to do for work when one of the higher-ups called in 'sick' and she needed to take his place at a big meeting. Never before has it felt so real, and this time, when her throat began to constrict, it didn't have a single thing to do with nerves.

A long time passed before Loki spoke again, but Jane was content to wait. She replaced his true name with the fake one so easily now. All the secrets were out, and while there was so much that still wasn't clear, she had all th e time in the world to get the answers.

If Jane was not in a place to cry, Loki was about to fall right over the edge. She could see his eyes shine, no matter how he tried to hide it. The fringe of his hair acted as a shade for the top of his lowered face, and his fingers had clenched into white knuckled fists.

"Jane," his voice was so rough she could hardly recognize it. "This doesn't involve you. There is a reason I told you to stay away. If you know what is good for you, you'll leave here now, and you won't talk to me or to Thor ever again."

"You know that's not going to happen."

He shook his head, and Jane thought she heard a \\ laugh beneath all those heaving breaths.

"Yes, you're far too stubborn." He let up a little on his hands, though his fingers remained in their curled state. "You know not what you are dealing with, and yet you rush right in because you simply care that much." His hair parted, and Jane could see his eyes again. They were like a child's. "Believe me, Jane, you shouldn't care for a wretch like me. If you only knew the things I've done, you'd never want to see me again."

Jane shook her head. "No, no, don't go all brooding romantic hero on me." She reached out to lift his chin all the way up, and her finger ran down his cheek in something akin to a caress. "This isn't a love story yet."

She thought he smiled, and she thought he would answer in kind, but then a low rumble started just to the left of them, growing steadily louder until high beams appeared to accompany the ominous sound.

Loki watched them come, his stance changing once again to something Jane couldn't pinpoint.

"No..." he whispered.

"What is it?" Jane asked, but Loki never responded.

The next few seconds came and went in a flurry of color, motion, and sound. By the end of it, Jane couldn't say for sure what happened first and what came last. She knew that Loki tackled her, threw her to the ground as a car with tinted windows came screeching along the turn. She heard two cracks that split the air in time with those awful squealing tires. She felt Loki's hands leave her, and saw him stumble to wall when the car disappeared and all was calm.

In the fall, she'd hit her head, and pain was spreading like knifes all up and down the back of her skull and neck. She rolled from her side to her behind, groaning from the effort, and pulled herself up on her elbows. She waited for the street to stop spinning, and then called out.

"Loki..."

He was still against the wall, one hand out for support while he clutched at his chest with the other. Air came to him in gasps now. Jane could've heard it from all the way up the street.

"Loki?"

She picked herself up a little at a time. Her head was still swimming, and if she moved too quickly the street tilted to the left and the area behind her eyes throbed. On her feet, she took careful steps, the pain receding little by little in her upright position.

"Are you okay?"

Not once had he answered her, he was too busy digging his fingers into that metal plate door and ripping his button down shirt clean off. He held out one frayed end, and the deep red stains made Jane's blood run cold, while his gushed from a pair of pinprick holes in his stomach.

"Oh my God."

She ran to him, no longer feeling the aches or the pains. His legs gave out when she reached him, and her own knees buckled as he collapsed onto her for the second time that night. Gently as she could, Jane laid him on his back to assess the damage, but apart from a few nursing classes in college, there was nothing she could do for something like this.

"Hold on, Loki. I'll call for an ambulance."

She fumbled with her phone, her hands not working to hold it and her fingers unable to dial 911. She almost called Darcy on speed dial once, and then Chinese takeout two more times. His red coated hand wrapped around her thin wrist with surprising strength for someone who'd just been shot twice.

"Jane..."

"Just give me another minute, Loki. I'm gonna get you help. Just hold on."

"Jane... I like that..."

_"What?" _

He gave her a loopy grin, his eyes glazing over and his breath growing shallow.

"I like... the way you say... my name."

His grip on her loosened, leaving behind a bloody handprint. His head lolled to one side and his eyelids fluttered.

"Oh no, no no no, don't do this to me, Loki. Don't you dare do this to me!"

She punched in the numbers with new awareness and determination, and then she took the hand he had held her with and pressed it to her face. She didn't mind the coppery taste filling her mouth. She wanted just to feel the warmth of his skin that had yet to seep away, to_ know_ that he was alive, and that he would stay alive, as red and blue lights flashed overhead, and sirens blared in the distance.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm back!**

**Would have been back sooner, but in the middle of writing this chapter, I suddenly noticed an enormous plot hole that needed fixing, so I had to rewrite a few bits to fill it in.**

**Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

><p>The medics burst through the double doors, shouting for a doctor using all sorts of medical jargon Jane couldn't keep up with. She caught a few words like 'hemorrhaging' and 'surgery' that she understood perfectly, and they made her run faster so she could try to catch some more.<p>

The ride to the hospital had passed in a blur, but still seemed to take forever. A paramedic had asked her to sit in the front seat with the driver, and Jane had ignored him completely. Nothing was going to make her let go of Loki's hand. He was semi-conscious throughout the drive, opening his eyes here and there, trying to speak but unable to form words. Blood seeped from his stomach like water from a ravine. One medic held a cloth to the wounds, and Jane watched in a sick sort of trance as it slowly turned red in the man's gloved hands.

Jane ran along with the gurney, keeping hold of his hand all the while. Her fingers were numb; if she tried to let go, she might not be able to.

A man and a woman, both in white coats, answered the medic's calls. The woman directed them to an empty room and the medics ran faster, until Jane could no longer keep up. Loki's hand slipped from hers, as if she'd never been holding it. The female doctor blocked her path.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to stay in the waiting area," she said, not kind in her words, but not rude either. "We need to get an idea of his condition before he can have visitors. Just stay here. Donna will give you some paperwork to fill out."

The doctor left her standing there, rigid and pale, with fingers that tingled from the cooling feel of him. They rolled Loki into the exam room, where he was fussed over by a crowd of people in scrubs, until a nurse pulled the curtains to hide them from view. The material was thin enough that Jane could catch a hint of shadows. Sometimes, they bumped against it and it fluttered outward. Other times, a hand poked out from the side, grabbing tape or gauze or just closing the curtain a little tighter. None of it did anything for Jane's nerves. It wasn't enough just knowing that Loki was in good hands. She had to_ see_ it.

A pudgy, middle-aged woman, with permed brown hair and thick coke bottle glasses, approached Jane with papers on a clipboard.

"Did you come here with that man in room seven?"

Jane glanced at Loki's room and the bold number seven etched into the wall.

"Yeah," she said, and the woman, presumably Donna, handed her the clipboard.

"If you could just fill this out to the best of your ability," she said, and she gave Jane's hand a reassuring pat. "Don't worry about your boyfriend, hon. He's in good hands."

"I hope so," Jane said, scanning the page and the words that barely made sense to her. Her head shot up. "But he's not my…"

She stopped talking. She had no idea how to correct the woman. Loki wasn't her boyfriend, but calling him just a friend seemed wrong somehow. Acquaintance was even worse. 'Employee' came to her and it almost brought a smile to her face.

"Forgive me if I misunderstood," Donna said. "I just assumed you were a couple from the way you were holding his hand before. It looked like you'd rather be shot yourself than let him out of your sight."

She stood to the side to let Jane finish writing. The pen wasn't even uncapped yet, so she'd be waiting a while.

"It reminded me of when my husband had a heart attack last year. I was so terrified of losing him that I never wanted to let him out of my sight again."

"Is that so?" Jane wrote her name and number under 'primary contact', hesitating for a long time at 'relation to patient.'

"Of course. He's the love of my life. If I lost him, I don't know what I'd do."

Jane handed back the forms after another minute. Most of it remained blank, but she just wanted to be alone for a while, without reminiscing receptionists making her feel like she didn't care enough. She cared plenty. She cared so much that her head had filled with a hundred new scenarios of those doctors failing to save Loki before all the blood in his body drained. Each new one was worse than the last. She could end up never knowing what had led him to the horrible life he lived.

She might never know him at all.

That terrified her more than anything else.

The minutes dragged on like hours. Every time a doctor ran by or a machine started beeping or a voice came over the intercom, Jane's heart clenched and she thought that this was it. She was going to hear that he was dead from a doctor or a nurse feigning sympathy, like they didn't do this twenty times a day seven days a week.

A doctor did come out, and he did walk in her direction. He was the male doctor Jane had seen before, but he lacked the grave expression all the TV doctors Jane had ever seen wore when delivering bad news.

"You're a friend of the shooting victim?" he asked.

Jane bit her lip. "Well… yeah, I am. How is he?"

"He's being prepped for surgery. He's lost a lot of blood, but luckily, the bullets missed his vital areas, and removing them should be a quick in and out procedure."

Jane drew a shaky breath.

"So he'll live?" she asked.

The doctor grinned. "I'd be surprised if he didn't. He'll have to take it easy for a few weeks, but he is going to walk out of here."

He shook her hand. Jane thought she held his tighter than she had Loki's. That her relief was so strong seemed disproportionate for someone she was only just starting to learn about. Sure, they had sex, and sure, she'd been there when he was shot, and sure, he pushed her out of the way of the bullets to save her life, but…

There was definitely a 'but' in there somewhere, but she'd lost track of what it was.

The doctor was saying something. What Jane caught was something about five minutes.

"What?" she asked.

The doctor chuckled. "Hope I didn't lose you there. I said that we're moving him in just about five minutes. You can see him now if you like."

"Oh. Okay, sure."

Jane followed him down the hall, passing room seven, which was now devoid of both people and a bed. They had moved him when she wasn't looking. She should have looked harder.

They passed a few more rooms full of young people in bandages and old people hooked up to machines. One little girl had an enormous bloody gash on the side of her arm covered in gauze, and bile rushed to Jane's throat as she wondered what could have happened to her.

How did Don even stand it?

No wonder he was always cranky after work.

The doctor led her to an open area, where Loki's bed was pushed against the wall and a heart monitor beeped slow and steady at his side. The doctor glanced at the readings, muttering something and then turning away. Jane took that to mean Loki was fine so far.

"I can only give you a minute with him," said the doctor. "Then you're going to have to wait until he's out of recovery to see him again."

Jane nodded. She gripped the bars on the side of the bed, looking down at a face that that was strangely peaceful. His suit and tie had been removed in favor of a hospital gown that barely fit. His long legs stuck out from beneath the hem, his bare feet edging over the mattress. His arms were uncovered. An IV ran from a vein to a blood packet on a pole. Jane whipped around.

"He has a rare blood type!"

The doctor looked up from his files.

"What?"

"He told me once that he had a rare blood type. You have to be careful what you give him."

She probably sounded ridiculous, telling a doctor how to do his job like she knew half as much about this as he did. To his credit, he didn't call her on it. He seemed to be one of those 'nice, understanding' doctors, the kind a certain ex of hers liked to think he was.

"We already have that covered. We'd be a terrible excuse for a hospital if we didn't have blood transfusions for everyone."

A nurse called him over to look at some charts. He left Jane with a reminder that she had only two minutes. Left alone, Jane ran her hands along the smooth, cool metal to the end, until she could no longer feel it, but instead something warm and soft. Her brow furrowed. She looked down and almost jerked her hand away. She was holding his again.

Her subconscious mind was doing a whole lot of unnecessary things tonight. She blamed the shock.

Loki mumbled and groaned like he had in the ambulance. Jane paid it no mind. She brushed along his long fingers that used to do so much to drive her mad, but now felt heavy and limp.

"…ane…"

Jane jumped.

Loki's eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling. His face bespoke confusion, like he was trying desperately to figure out where he was and how he got there. His strong voice had been reduced to a croak.

"Jane…"

"Loki," Jane bent over his face, perhaps too low. Another nurse was giving her a look. Jane pulled back. "Don't worry, they're going to remove the bullets and then you'll be fine."

"No… not fine…"

"What are you saying? Of course you'll be-"

"No… No… Malekith…"

He drew a long breath, went silent, and for a long, painful moment, Jane thought he wouldn't speak again, then he exhaled.

"Malekith… will come…"

"What?" Jane bent again. Let that nurse glare all she wanted. "Loki, speak to me. What is Malekith going to do?"

"The deal's broken…" Loki gritted his teeth in pain. "He broke it… now he'll kill… everyone. He'll go after them…"

"Ms. Foster."

The doctor was back. He had a group of orderlies with him all in a line. His face said it all.

"Can I just have one more minute with him?" Jane asked.

"I'm afraid we can't wait any longer."

Jane stood a small way's away, watching the doctor direct the nurse in unhooking Loki and wheeling him out. She barely saw what was happening, so consumed by unanswered questions she was.

Why did Malekith break their deal?

Why did Loki make deal with him in the first place?

How did such an evil man get Loki under his thumb?

What more had he threatened him with that Jane didn't know about?

One thought trounced all others, of Thor and Sif at home with Thor's parents, unsuspecting of the fate one of their own had been left to, and the kind of danger it put him in. The same kind of danger they were about to be in.

Jane ran behind the gurney. She slowed to a stop as they approached the double doors where Jane would not be allowed to enter.

"Loki!" she called out, cupping her hands over her mouth. "I promise everything is going to be fine. He's not going to get away with this, and no one else is going to get hurt!"

A few people in the waiting room and that same old nurse stared after her. Jane ran in the other direction to an empty space next to Loki's old room. Few people walked to and fro and the waiting room was far away enough that their voices were little more than a gentle buzz.

She whipped out her phone, dialing the number before she had a chance to think about it. That came at the second ring. What she was about to do would change everything, and possibly throw four people's lives completely off balance and into a world so very unlike their own. Maybe she should think a little more about it before she made this call. Maybe she should-

"Hello?"

Thor sounded so cheerful that Jane wanted to cry. Her mouth hung open, wordless.

"Hello? Is something there?"

Jane clutched the phone with both hands.

"Thor, it's me."

She heard a laugh.

"Jane! A bit late for a personal call, isn't it?"

_'You have no idea,'_ Jane thought. She heard a thump on the other end, like he'd just flopped down on a couch.

"Well, I'm glad you called," he said. "I needed to talk to you about the menu for the reception. Our chef wants an idea of what everyone will be having so there won't be any mistakes. We had a huge problem with that for my parents' anniversary-"

"Wait, hang on a second. I have to tell you something really important."

Thor went quiet.

"Alright, I'm listening."

Jane took a deep breath.

"Thor, you're in danger."

"In danger? Of what?"

"Malekith," the name tasted like sulfur on Jane's tongue. "You need to get Sif and your parents out of the house right now. Don't wait."

"I don't believe this," Thor muttered. "Did that bastard get in touch with you?"

"No, Thor, that's not it, I-"

"Sif told me he spoke to you at the engagement party. I should have done something then." Thor's voice wasn't as clear now. Jane thought he might be pacing. "It's bad enough that he bothers my family, but to go after my friends if he can't get to us is a new low."

"No, that's not it! Malekith isn't after me, he's after _you._ That's why you all need to get out of there and meet me at NYU hospital, in the emergency room."

"Emergency room?" Thor shouted. "What are you doing there? Are you injured?"

"No, I'm fine. It's not me, it's-"

The name caught in her throat. This was it, she knew. This was the moment where everything changed. Trust her to freeze up right when she needed her strength the most.

"Jane?" Thor yelled through the tinny speakers. "Are you still there? Jane, talk to me."

The phone was slipping from her hand, Thor's voice fading a little more with every inch. Then Jane's hand tightened, hard enough to crack the plastic. She brought it back to her ear.

"It's Loki, Thor," she said, swallowing hard. "Loki's here."

This time, the silence that passed between them wasn't curious or bemused. It was just dead, like all sound in Thor's world had been muted, and he was transferring the feeling to her through the phone. Jane was quite suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating.

"I know how this sounds," she had to struggle to keep her voice down. "I know it sounds crazy, but Loki is alive. He faked his death in that fire, and he's been working for Malekith in exchange for your lives."

"Jane…"

"But now Malekith's gone back on the deal and he tried to have Loki killed. He's going to come after you next."

"Jane."

"Please, you have to believe me!"

"Jane, stop."

He didn't yell or scream. He wasn't even particularly loud, but the force behind those two words echoed, and felt like a physical slap in the face. Jane couldn't hear her heart anymore. She felt like it had stopped.

"Please," she begged. Her legs were growing weaker.

"Jane, my brother is dead," his breaths sounded shaky. "It's taken me a long time to come to terms with never seeing him again, and for you to…"

Jane blinked back tears.

"Thor, you know me. You know I'd never lie about something like this."

"I thought I knew you, but perhaps I was wrong. Now I'm going to hang up, and I'm going to pretend we never had this conversation. If you're as smart as I've always known you to be, you won't call back."

"No, wait-"

There was a click and a dial tone. Thor was gone. Jane stared at her phone's background—that snapshot of her and Darcy having drinks at New Year's Eve failed for once to bring a smile to her face—and considered throwing it against the wall and stomping on the remains. Frustration roared within her. She channeled it into her next call. This time around, she didn't fumble with the number once.

"911 emergency," the monotone female voice droned.

"Yes, I need the police to get to 267 Fifth Avenue room 1008, the penthouse suite. It's registered to Odin Borson. I have reason to believe that my friends are in danger."

There was a slight pause.

"You're friends, huh? Pretty rich friends."

"Please, I need you to get the police over there right away. They need to get them out of there and somewhere safe."

"Hang on, go slower. What kind of danger are they in?"

"Look, it's a long story, and we don't have a lot of time, but someone is going to be at their home any time now and when they get there, they are going to kill them."

"And have your friends been made aware of the threat?"

"I tried." Jane leaned heavily against the wall. "They're convinced that nothing's wrong, but I know that something is going to happen. Look into a man named 'Malekith.' He's the one behind this. Please tell the police to get the Odinson family to safety."

Another pause followed, during which Jane thought she could hear typing.

"Okay, Ms. Foster, I'm dispatching squad cars to the scene now. They'll take care of everything. You go and get some rest now."

Rest. That was a good idea, now that Jane thought about it. She thanked the dispatcher several times, until the woman's 'you're welcomes' can out completely baffled. Jane slid the phone back into her pocket and walked to the waiting room with all those seats that looked more comfortable and inviting with each step. She choose the closest one, right next to the welcome desk and the doors doctors walked through to deliver news to waiting families. One of them would be coming for her soon.

Jane was asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>"Ms. Foster. Ms. Foster?"<p>

Something was on her shoulder, tapping her out of her dreams. Jane wanted to brush it back, but those blissful few seconds when you've just woken up, and all your troubles are far away come to an end. She snapped awake, wide eyes focusing on the doctor as she stretched out stiff, aching muscles. This was why one didn't sleep sitting upright.

"What happened? Is Loki okay?"

She hoped she didn't sound too desperate. Then he might think she was some kind of weirdo. Then again, he probably saw people like her every day, so maybe not.

"The surgery's over," the doctor said. "He just went into recovery. It'll be just a little bit before you can see him. We were able to successfully remove the bullets, and while he's going to have a couple of scars, he's going to make a full recovery."

"Thank you so much, doctor." Jane shook his hand vigorously.

"All in a day's work. If you have any friends or family you'd like to alert, now's the time."

Jane let go of his hand, her eyes dropping to the floor little by little. A nurse called to him, saying something about EKG results, and he offered her a quick nod and a goodbye before going off. Jane didn't watch him go.

That was another thing she'd forgotten, her failure to warn Thor and her attempt to get the police involved. According to the clock, almost an hour had passed. They would have gotten there a long time ago. Did they make it in time? Did Thor even let them in? Or was he so convinced that all was well and that Jane was a nutcase that he sent them away and stayed blissfully unaware of what was going to happen to him, all the way up until…

Well, she'd do herself no good just sitting around wondering.

Jane reached for her phone. The charge was going down, and he wasn't likely to pick up if he saw her name on Call ID, but if she just blocked her number and heard Thor's voice once, at least she'd know he was still alive.

She let the phone ring one time and then snapped it shut. The very person she wanted to hear from had just burst in through the door, Sif and his parents following in his wake.

"Thor!"

Jane rushed to him. He looked nothing like the immaculate executive she had come to know. His forehead glistened with sweat, his dark blue dress shirt was dirty and ripped in several places, including one across the stomach, and the look in his eyes reminded Jane of a tiger on the prowl. He relaxed just a little when he saw her, and welcomed her in his strong embrace. Jane hugged him and Sif in turn; she didn't look much better than her fiancé. There was dirt on her face and arms as if she'd been rolling around on the floor. Her clothes were rumbled, and her hair was askew and in need of a brush.

"Sorry we're late," she said. "We got held up."

"But I thought you didn't believe me," Jane said to Thor.

He gave a weak shrug and an even weaker smile. "I didn't, but right after I hung up on you, our butler, who's been with us for three and a half years, turned a gun on me and my mother. I managed to subdue him, but meanwhile, our chef was attacking Sif with a butcher knife."

"And if I hadn't noticed an odd smell in my evening coffee," said a grave faced Odin, "They would have brought me here in a body bag."

"You're kidding," Jane gasped. That would certainly explain what a mess Thor and Sif were.

"I wish I could say we were," said Odin, shaking his head. "Malekith kept a closer watch on my family than I ever could have guessed."

He was a very old man, Jane noticed. She'd never spoken to him directly before now, but he looked so much older and smaller up close. Sif placed a hand on his arm.

"It wasn't your fault, Father, you couldn't have foreseen this."

"I should have," Odin said. "Maybe then we…"

His wife offered comfort, but from the look on her face, she was somewhere else. She looked this way and that, her eyes traveling to every open door and down every hall, like she expected to find something there that she never thought she'd find again.

"We interrogated the butler," Thor said, drawing attention back to him. "It took time, but eventually he gave in, and he told us everything about what Malektih had done. He was hired to watch us, to eliminate us in case… in case…"

But he couldn't finish, hard as he tried. Maybe he was having trouble believing it. Jane could understand that. For someone who loved his family as much as Thor did, this was too horrible and too good to be true at the same time.

"In case Loki disobeyed," Jane finished for him.

His father tensed up, his mother choked on a sob, Sif stared straight ahead, and just like that day in Thor's office—the day that started it all—Jane saw her boss and friend cry.

"Yes."


End file.
